Devil's Waitin'
by Calla Mae
Summary: What if it hadn't just been Lorne and the man in his trunk when he crashed his car in Bemidji, what if a woman had been sitting in the passenger seat? How well does she know Lorne Malvo, what part will he have her play? And when it's discovered he might actually care for her, how far would he be willing to go to save her? Lorne x OC
1. I'm born in and weary

Olivia Anderson pulled into her driveway to find a white New Yorker parked outside of her house, and she hesitated a moment before turning her car off and climbing out into the brisk morning air. Even as she walked to the front door she knew it would be unlocked, she didn't even bother with her keys as she stepped into the house – taking note the heat had been turned on. Without a word of hello to the uninvited man sitting on her couch she hung up her jacket and bag before heading to the fridge to grab a beer. Only catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye she could tell he was exactly the same: same bad haircut, same silent posture, same lack of care for simple courtesy like calling instead of showing up – only thing different was three months.

He took the beer she offered him as she sat beside him, already half finished with her own. "It's seven in the morning, I haven't even had breakfast."

If she didn't know him she wouldn't have heard the teasing in his toneless voice. "Technically it's my dinnertime," she answered knowing she looked exhausted; she felt it too.

"Long shift?" he asked simply as he continued sitting beside her, having taken note of her scrubs when she came in – she rarely left the hospital in them unless she was going back, or too tired to care about changing as she left.

She set her empty bottle down and sat back with a sigh. "Seventy-two hours and not a single night's sleep because the new interns are idiots and my patients keep trying to die. End of residency sucks," she mumbled knowing she had to get up to shower. "Got any clothes you want washed, I'm doing a load before I head out?" she asked before finishing the rest of his beer and making her way to the laundry room.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you flew to Minnesota?" he asked following behind her.

She'd long since given up wondering how he knew half of what he did and settled with thinking he just knew everything, and it didn't cross her mind how he knew she was going to Minnesota when he'd been away for months. "I don't fly," she answered, having already answered that question numerous times in her medical career; flying was sometimes part of a surgeon's job if a patient needed an organ, but she hated flying.

He stood behind her watching as she dumped the basket of clothes in the washer and then as she pulled off the scrubs she wore and put them in as well. "It's an irrational fear," he said trailing the tips of his fingers along her side as she poured in the detergent. "Statistically speaking there's only a one in,"

"My uncle died in a plane crash," she said interrupting him, "it's perfectly rational. Want any clothes washed?" she asked again looking up at him. She waited as he pulled the shirt over his head and stepped out of his pants leaving him naked, and he did no more than start the washer and turn to her with a brow raised. "Are you trying to seduce me, Lorne Malvo?" she asked looking him over before returning her eyes to his.

He smirked stepping closer. "Perhaps."

She shook her head smiling. "Well then you should know that I haven't showered in three days, and I've been peed on, twice," she told him before heading to the bathroom and turning on the water; she knew exactly what he was doing, realizing why he'd showed up unannounced, and she knew as well as he did that she'd fall for it.

And sure enough he stepped in after her, placing his arms around her back when she turned into his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. "Why are you going to Minnesota?" he asked conversationally - already knowing why.

Even though she figured he knew she still told him, enjoying a few moments of normality. "A few weeks ago a kid came in with some kind of virus, but after several tests we never found out what it was. Since his family was only visiting relatives we sent them home for their doctors to see if they could find anything more," she said simplifying much of the "medical talk" she normally would have used knowing he didn't appreciate it, and he was being so gentle in that moment; his hands running through her hair as he washed it, his skin so warm against hers. "His mother asked if there was a way I could continue working on his case until we discovered what was wrong, the chief only said yes so I'd stop badgering him about it. I'm sure he'll use it as leverage at some point to keep me as an attending when I take my boards. So now I'm going to Minnesota to figure out what's wrong with this kid, and from how nice you're being," she said looking up at him to see him smirking as he so often did, "I'd say you were coming with me."

His smirk curled into a smile knowing she'd catch on, she always did. "Maybe I wanted to see you," he offered as though he often showed up unannounced to visit; but they both knew he only did when he had a job within the area, and he only came by because it was a free place to stay – she was convenient, and warm.

She laughed lightly knowing that couldn't be farther from the truth, and yet when he bent his head toward her she lifted her chin willingly. "Your pants are fire," she said smiling before kissing him, letting him hold her against the wall, letting him ruin her further; even though she knew better, she'd missed him.

…

_The first time Lorne had come across Olivia, it hadn't been her greatest moment but it certainly had been a noteworthy one; and she'd never even noticed him. As pretty as she was he hadn't paid her much mind when she'd walked in the pharmacy, she wasn't why he was there – it wasn't until her voice rose in irritation that he looked up to see her. _

"_Of course my patient gives consent for the vaccine, she has rabies. No she can't wait two weeks for the paperwork, she has rabies," she exclaimed nearly yelling at the uninterested man behind the glass. _

"_Look lady, I don't know who you spoke to but I can't give you the vaccine to take over state line without a signature from the health department," he told her barely paying her attention as he looked at something on the computer._

_She stood wanting to pull her hair out; she'd been searching all night for the vaccination and it was now three in the morning and this was the only place she'd called that had it in stock and was willing to give it to her, let alone one of the few places still open. Except of course, the woman she spoke to was now gone and the idiot behind the glass was saying no. "I drove an hour and a half to come here, she doesn't have two weeks for the signature, isn't there some kind of emergency circumstance papers for these kinds of things?" she asked exasperated, wanting to reach through the little slot in the window and take the vaccination from him. _

_He nodded rolling his eyes. "I'm sure they're in a file somewhere," he answered. _

_She stared at him waiting for him to say something else or to move to get them, but he sat in his chair staring at the computer. "Can you get them for me?" she asked through clenched teeth now just wanting to strangle him. _

_He looked up at her irritably. "I can after I finish what I'm doing, have a seat it might take hours," he said before turning back to the screen in front of him. _

_Lorne had watched all of this waiting for what she would do, seeing in her clenched fists she wanted to hit the man; he wanted her to, he wanted her to reach through the slot and grab the man's shirt slamming him into the glass – it's what he planned to do when she gave up. And sure enough she turned away from the counter. _

_Only Olivia was furious at the events of the entire night; the young girl had come in from a dog bite and her parents were constantly calling for her to come in and answer their questions, thinking their daughter was going to die any minute, and then their pharmacy had been out of the rabies vaccination – why wouldn't they be, Murphy's law and all – and then half of the pharmacies she'd called hadn't even answered and the ones that did refused without the forms being filled out or a signature from the health department; and now she was standing there with the vaccine literally a foot from her. She was beyond furious, and she certainly wasn't giving up. And so with her sense clouded in anger she turned and grabbed the nearest chair before throwing it at the glass shattering it. _

_Lorne watched with raised brows as she jumped behind the counter and grabbed the box she'd wanted, looking over at the shocked man before pushing him down and climbing back over the counter and leaving. _

_Lorne turned back to the man behind the counter now standing looking shaken. "I'd say she didn't want to wait."_

* * *

_**So I started thinking of a story to write for the show and at first it was one of Lester, cause Martin Freeman is just too adorable as him, and the poor guy just needs someone who thinks he's great - so that story might still happen. But somewhere along the way I totally got hooked on Lorne and I could not get this idea out of my head of him meeting a woman who struck his interest enough that he continued to come around - and while I don't think he would ever "fall in love" with anyone, I do think he would be fond of her; and she's kind of totally in love with him. I know there's still a lot unanswered but she's known him about 4 years - so they have quite a past that I'm excited to get to. Also, his "niceness' with her; cause he's Lorne Malvo and he's never nice; he has an agenda, however he is kind of softer in general toward her which I hope to show when I delve more into their 'relationship'. Please tell me what you think and if you're interested in reading more; thank you very much for reading. **_


	2. but life's just begun

They left half past eight, Olivia having added his clothes to her suitcase and made them both lunch before they hit the road. If he'd had it his way he'd have driven straight through, not bothering with food or sleep til he got there; but he hadn't slept the night before, nor had he eaten, so when she asked him to pull over for dinner he obliged willingly. The only other time he stopped was for her to pee. The first time he'd pulled over on the side of the road and relieved himself before climbing back in the car and motioned for her to get out; though a look at her hard eyes and he'd sighed before taking her to a gas station.

"You going to Bemidji too?" she asked sitting across from him in the restaurant, knowing the thin line she walked when asking about his line of work.

"St Paul," he told her, his face all the answer she needed to know he wouldn't say more about it.

And so she waited until their waitress set their plates down, and he had food in his mouth, before she next spoke. "So we're stopping on the way there?"

He exhaled sharply before looking at her to find a soft look in her eye as she waited patiently for him to answer, and he paused a moment as he thought of how to respond. "I've been good."

"What?" she asked confused, that having been neither what she asked him nor what she'd expected.

Taking another bite he continued. "Idle conversation is pointless Liv," he told her blandly. "It's been a while, you can ask how I've been and I've been good."

"Okay," she said with knitted brows. "I've been good too, studying for my boards saving lives, nothing out of the ordinary. So are we stopping on the way there, cause I have to be at work on Monday morning and I'd like a full night's rest Sunday night?" she asked smiling softly when he turned back to her. "It's been a while, Lorne, you can ask how I am; idle conversation being pointless and all."

His mouth straightened in annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "Pay the check, I'm taking a piss," he said tossing her his wallet before standing, leaving her still smiling amused.

She held the old leather wallet he used when he wasn't 'working', wondering why he'd carelessly admitted he wanted to know how she'd been; but her answer came when she opened the wallet and pulled out a twenty for their meal and found a folded photograph. It surprised her at seeing it was a picture of her - her mouth was curled slightly and though the person she was looking at was torn out of the photo she knew she was smiling at him – he didn't like her being connected to him. She didn't know how long he'd had it, only from the ragged crease and the thinning edges he took it out often; and though it shouldn't, though she knew the man he was, she found herself touched at knowing he kept a little memento of her – until he came back to the table and she saw the slight curl of the side of his mouth as he put on his jacket. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he answered.

She put the photograph back in his wallet before handing it to him, and letting him help her into her jacket when she stood. "The non-casual admitting you missed me, the photo in your wallet, you being quite nice to me," she said as they left the restaurant and walked to the car, where he held the door open for her to get in. "I'm not gonna like your job, am I?"

He smiled briefly before turning to her seriously. "No," he answered before turning back to the road.

With a sigh she settled back having figured she wouldn't, he was pleasant enough on any given day if not a bit irritating, but him being charming was never a good thing. "How long are you planning on driving for."

"St Paul," he told her, not needing to see her face to know she wasn't happy with that.

Nor was she, she'd have stopped in two hours at the most and found a hotel and finished the drive tomorrow; he planned to continue until they were where he wanted to be – something that shouldn't have surprised her – and that would put them getting there sometime after midnight. "You're a pain in the ass," she muttered before grabbing the blanket she'd put in the back seat and wrapping around herself.

"I can tell you mean that," he said at the feel of her head on his shoulder.

She nearly smiled when he took his hand from the steering wheel to sit his elbow on the armrest, knowing it was more comfortable for her; she knew it wasn't a thought to him, at least not anymore, he did little things for her all the time that barely crossed his mind. "One more question," she said looking up at him to see his irritated face as he sighed, "then I'll go to sleep." She waited until he turned to her and gave a short nod before looking back to the road, him knowing she'd ask no matter if he wanted her to or not. "After you drop me off in Bemidji are you planning on coming back when you finish your job or do I call when I'm ready to go home?"

"You're assuming that I plan to drive you home," he said without looking at her, knowing she'd read the answer on his face – she had the infuriating habit of being able to do that.

She considered calling him an ass again knowing he was being difficult for the sake of being difficult. "You're driving me there you're driving me back," she said having thought that was the plan; she thought he would pick up whatever he had to do, if it would take no more than a day like he was making it seem, and then drop her off at the hotel the hospital was paying for and then finish his job in time to take her back when she done.

But he only looked down at her and shrugged. "Then I guess I'll be back to drive you home," he told her smirking when she sat up to stare at him.

"Are you coming back?" she asked again, that having been what she'd wanted to know.

Again he only shrugged though now the corners of his mouth were curled in a smile. "You said one question, I answered it."

With a heavy sigh she sat back in her seat knowing he wouldn't answer without more from her, and she hated admitted her feelings; so after several minutes of silence she finally rolled her eyes and turned to him. "I want you to come back," she said bitterly, watching as he turned with raised brows – and even then she could see the amusement behind his perfectly innocent eyes. "I missed you."

He smiled before looking back to the road. "That's very sweet, Liv."

She rolled her eyes and lowered her seat to sleep. "I'll just ask you tomorrow," she mumbled moving the seatbelt behind her and pulling the blanket up to her chin. She was already half asleep when she felt his hand on her leg; he didn't pat her, didn't rub his thumb soothingly, he simply sat with a hand on her leg, just touching her. And she wondered as she drifted off to sleep if he possibly had missed her, and he certainly would never admit it – at least not using anything more than the gesture he used now, which was nothing more than a hand on her leg.

…

"_Hello Mr. Johnson, I'm Dr. Anderson, I see you came in for abdominal pain," Olivia said looking up from the chart to see her patient. He was an interesting looking man to say in the least: mid fifties as the chart had said, six foot and underweight which she could see in his slim shoulders, and his hair – it literally looked like someone put a bowl on his head and cut straight across. _

_He looked her over briefly before turning back to her eyes, seeing she was looking through his chart again. "You look very familiar," he said calling her attention to him. _

_She looked at him closer wondering if he'd come in before, if he was having chronic abdominal pain she might have seen him sometime at the hospital. "Have we met?" she asked when she found nothing about him familiar, and with that haircut and his incredibly dark eyes, she knew she'd remember him. _

_The corner of his mouth curled knowing she hadn't noticed him that night, and he'd caught her license plate number and followed her back to Baltimore. "Throw any chairs at a pharmacist recently?" he asked, his smirk spreading into a smile when she pressed her lips together and turned to the counter behind her. _

"_I got reprimanded for that," she told him as she pulled on a pair of gloves. "It was reckless and an endangerment, and he was only doing his stupid job," she said turning back to him. "Can you lie back for me Mr. Johnson?" _

_He did as she asked and waited as she pulled up his shirt, watching her face closely as she caught sight of the bloody bandage on his side. "How did you get this?" she asked per protocol, realizing now the darkness in his eyes reminded her of danger. _

"_I'm afraid I can't tell you," he told her seriously though he kept his face pleasant. _

_Her brow rose irritably as she stared down at him with hard eyes. "And why is that?" _

_He offered a charming smile as he looked up at her, glad to see the fire in her that had been there in the pharmacy. "Because then you'll report it and I can't have that, and I'd hate to have to restrain you." _

_She stared open mouthed at the nerve he had coming here with a knife wound and refusing to give any sort of statement. There was protocol for this, she was to excuse herself and get security, but something in his eyes kept her feet where they were – and he didn't even seem to blink as his eyes continued staring hard into her own. "So you found yourself in another state and just so happened to come to this very hospital? That's quite the coincidence." _

"_That it is," he said with an easy smile, his eyes almost daring her. _

_She released a heavy breath and rolled her eyes already done with him. "Why don't you just tell me what it is you want," she said ready to stitch him up and send him on his way. _

"_You're going to give me stitches and then write on your chart I ate something that hadn't agreed with me, prescribe me something and then tell me to leave," he said as though it were that simple. _

"_Oh is that all?" she asked sarcastically before moving back to the counter and looking for the sutures in one of the drawers. She returned with the surgical thread and needle, and a gauze pad damp with hydrogen peroxide; she didn't bother numbing the wound, he didn't deserve it and she was now feeling particularly spiteful considering she could lose her job – yet even still, something in his dark eyes kept her from testing him. He didn't scare her, he _stilled_ her. _

_He grit teeth at the feel of her fingers pushing down on the area around where he'd been stabbed. "What are you doing?" he asked when she stepped away and made for the door. _

_She turned to him with a stern face. "Don't make me sedate you," she warned him before leaving the room and returning with an ultrasound. "You were stabbed in the abdomen, do you know how many organs could have been lacerated," she grumbled as she quickly looked him over. "And somehow it managed to hit nothing," she said seeing he'd been stabbed far enough from his midline that it only tore through skin. Feeling no guilt she cleaned the wound with the peroxide hearing him release a hot breath before she began stitching him – stealing a glance at his face to find him laying back with his jaw clenched and his eyes still staring at her. "Come back in a week and a half and I'll take them out, request me specifically cause I'm saying you have kidney stones," she told him before throwing out the gauze and her gloves and grabbing his chart. At the feeling of his eyes on her face she turned to find him staring at her amused as he reached for his coat. _

"_Have a nice day, Dr. Anderson," he told her, stepping close enough to her she had to look up at him to see his face before he walked around her and out of the door. He left her staring after him shocked at the heat in his dark eyes, her mouth opening as though to speak but no words to give._

…

It was well after one before they reached St. Paul, and he'd turned to ask if she had a preference to what motel they stayed in only to find her still fast asleep. Without much thought to it he pulled the blanket back up to her shoulder before facing the empty road to look for a motel with the rooms outside; it'd make carrying her in easier.

He left her in the car to pay for the night, waking up the man behind the desk, before returning to grab her bag and bring it into the room – turning on the heat and pulling down the comforter so he could just lay her down. Though when he turned to get her he found her closing the door with his keys in her hand. "I would've brought you in," he said taking the keys and putting them on the table, his eyes following her to the bed as she pulled off her pants and climbed in it.

"I know," she mumbled too tired to care about anything other than how uncomfortable the car was in comparison to the bed.

He looked at her almost fondly as she lay once more asleep with the covers barely over her; he'd driven through the night to catch her before she left, and then he'd driven all day not asking her to switch with him when she'd gone back and forth napping most of the drive.

He sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots, grabbing the gun he always kept on him and laying himself around her; she had the habit of laying on the side of the bed closest to the door and he reached around her to put the gun under her pillow, not caring to move as he lay with an arm slung over her and his head on her shoulder – she was soft and warm, and he was too tired to care.

_**Ziggystartdust: thank you so much for your kind review, I'm very glad to know you're interested in reading more. I didn't think I was going to get any reviews for this story, so thank you again it really made my whole day to read it :)**_

_**So I still haven't quite decided what my aim is with them, because I still haven't decided what I actually think about Lorne - like part of me thinks he's the devil, and then another part thinks he's just a psychotic murderer; but my intention is to show that whatever humanity he has, which lets face it he doesn't have very much I think the only time we saw it was with the deer in the very beginning of the first episode, so the little amount of humanity he is capable of he has put in Olivia: so she'll be the one who cares in most situations, and he won't. Also, cause I don't know how this comes out in writing, while I am trying to show that he is very fond of her and that he's typically nicer to her, I still think of him with the same stoic face and the same toneless voice; and I hope that it's showing. Thank you all for reading, if you have any suggestions for me in writing Lorne please let me know cause I'd love the help.**_


	3. I've run from the reasons

He woke lying over her back to find it was almost noon, and after smoothing the hair away from her face he knew she wouldn't wake for another hour in the least. And he wasn't wrong, it was nearing half past two when she finally pulled herself out of the bed to find him gone and a note lying where he should've been. She read it briefly and rolled her eyes taking the gun from beneath the pillow he'd left "just in case", and went to shower. It was close to three when she stepped out of the bathroom, and grabbing a medical book and the tv remote she sat back on the bed til Lorne came back in two hours.

On the dot the door opened and she looked up to see him in a hideous coat with black fur on the collar. "Is the bag packed?" he asked nodding to her suitcase. He waited for her to put the book back in before he picked it up. "I got something for you," he told her as he carried the bag to the car.

"Does it match what you got yourself?" she asked following him out and closing the door behind her, hoping very much that it didn't. He gave her a look before taking an olive coat out of a bag and putting it on her, and then taking the blue scarf and wrapping it around her neck. "It's better than what I was expecting," she said enjoying how warm it was as he zipped it up. "How do I look?"

He stared down at her pretty face and her long blonde hair, not bothering to look at the coat. "You look beautiful," he told her making her smile as he bent to kiss her.

In the time she'd known him she didn't know if he'd ever told her that before, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulders to hold his lips against her own for a few seconds longer; knowing exactly what he was doing. "There's a guy in the trunk, isn't there?" she asked when he pulled away, seeing in the curling of his mouth she was right. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes she stepped away from him and moved around the car, hearing for the first time the man's blubbering from inside. "I guess it'd be rude to tell him to keep it down," she said climbing in the passenger's side and grabbing the ipod he'd given her months ago. She didn't know who he'd taken it from or if the person was still alive, she'd given up thinking of those things; she couldn't think of his jobs as actual people and stomach it. She'd had to choose between her humanity and him, and she'd chosen him.

"You can tell him whatever you'd like, I don't think he'll listen," he said climbing in beside her and reaching for his case in the backseat. He offered her a smile when he dropped it on her lap and started the car.

For almost four hours she was going to sit with the man in the trunk crying and yelling and hitting the roof, and Lorne's heavy case on top of her legs; it'd be a hell of a long ride. She turned to him morosely and opened the case. "Which one do you want?" He chuckled lightly before grabbing the one he wanted and putting it in, running a hand over the back of her head almost affectionately as he drove while she put in her earphones to drown out the noise.

…

_She'd nearly forgotten the strange man completely by the time a week passed, busy making good decisions in her first year of residency – currently at the top of a streak in not making a single mistake, which she knew she'd break eventually._

"_Hey Olivia, a patient's here to see you, he requested you; a Mr. Johnson." _

_She turned surprised knowing exactly who that was and why he was there, and she nodded quickly before leaving her lunch break to go see him; not wanting anyone to offer to go since she was taking her break and then having to explain why she'd given a man she'd said had kidney stones sutures. "I believe I told you a week and a half, Mr. Johnson," she said walking in the room with his chart and closing the door. _

"_Lorne," he said making her pause. _

_She turned to him confused to find him sitting on the examination table staring at her with the corner of his mouth curled. "I didn't quite catch that." _

"_Lorne Malvo," he said again before leaving the end up to her to respond to. _

_She continued staring at him with knitted brows though her confusion quickly melted into realization and then to irritation; "you didn't even give me your real name," she said shaking her head at the gall on him. _

_He smiled and held his hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms Anderson." _

_After hesitating a moment she reluctantly took his hand and shook it. "Olivia," she muttered not even trying for pleasantry as she turned to get the hand sanitizer and gloves. _

"_Olivia," he said looking her over, "beautiful name." _

_She gave a derisive snort turning to him and pushing his shoulders back before lifting his shirt. "You're not getting on my good side," she told him as she gently prodded around the sutures. "Do you feel any pain?" she asked looking at him. _

_He stared hard at her seeing she quickly grew uncomfortable. "No." _

_Taking a breath she tore her eyes from his and looked back to the scar. "Well you've healed nicely so far, but taking them out five days early," _

"_I leave tomorrow," he said interrupting her, meeting her gaze when she turned to him. _

"_Well," she said looking away from him, "I guess you can afford a more noticeable scar." _

_He lay still as she removed the stitches, glancing over every inch of her face as she worked. "Hey Dr. Anderson, I pooped this morning." Lorne looked out of the window to see an aged man in a hospital gown smiling in at her_

"_That's great," Olivia said returning his smile before turning back to the man lying in front of her. "He had rectal cancer, stool is a good sign after surgery," she said at seeing his raised brows. "It was actually my first solo surgery," she admitted. _

_He stared at her youthful face seeing she was proud. "I'd say it went well." _

"_Yeah," she said, her smile a mix of bashful and pride. Until she realized she was almost completely at ease with this man who'd all but forced her to give him stitches and then cover it up, and in a flash her mouth was a straight line and she stepped away. "You can sit up now," she told him removing her gloves. _

_Doing as she said he sat up and watched as she scribbled on his chart. "Would you oppose my coming back?"_

"_What?" she asked looking at him confused. _

_He offered a small smile before continuing. "I'm leaving tomorrow, would you oppose my coming back?"_

_She looked at his waiting face wondering what game he was playing. "And what, take me out to dinner?" she retorted sarcastically, though he shrugged as though it were an option and it left her now having to answer her own question. "I'd say you owe me more than a dinner." _

"_I'll buy you two dinners," he said with a raise of a shoulder. _

_She laughed almost speechless at realizing he had every intention of coming back, and buying her dinner since she'd suggested it. "Sure, come back and take me out." _

_With a serious face he stood and stepped closer to her, watching her smile melt into curiosity as she stared up at him. "I'll see you then Olivia," he said, his tone sounding a promise. _

_She felt a heat in her stomach at the ferocity in his eyes, as though his stare was burning her. "See you then Mr. Johnson," she said making him smile before he left, leaving her caught between knowing it'd be best if he never came back and hoping he did if only to quench her now starved curiosity. _

…

"She won't, she won't stop you know. Day after… I'm gonna make her. I'm gonna do it tonight. But I'm scared."

Lorne stopped the tape and looked over at the case he kept them in, seeing it closed on Olivia's lap and her sitting back with her headphones still in the strap of her seatbelt behind her and her eyes closed as they had been for an hour, and he left the tape for the moment instead of waking her.

The moment they hit the deer she jolted awake feeling the car swerve off the road, Lorne's arm slamming into her chest before they crashed keeping her from going through the windshield. She sat still for a moment breathing as she tried to see if she was hurt, tearing the earbuds out and looking to see Lorne slowly sitting up; keeping her back when the car crashed had taken any time he might've had to protect his head. "Hey," she said taking his face in her hands and turning him toward her, seeing the line of blood where he'd hit the steering wheel. "How many fingers?"

"Three," he answered taking her hand from his face and opening the door.

She sat back satisfied and picked up his case off the floor, taking the cassette from the player and putting it with the others; looking up when she saw a flash of movement to see a round man running in the beams from the headlights. "Was he naked in the trunk the whole time?" she asked looking to where Lorne had gotten out to find him standing further away. She pushed against her door trying to open it only to find the snow piled too thick, with a sigh she climbed over the gearshift and out of the driver's side to see Lorne standing over the deer he'd hit. "What should we do with her?" she asked kneeling down to get a better look; seeing from the knot in her spine her back was broken, and from her short breaths a rib had probably impaled her lung – she'd now suffocate in her own blood. She sighed regretfully knowing there was nothing to do for the poor thing, something that pulled at her heart because it was only a fawn; at the feel of his hand on her shoulder she leaned against him, taking the little comfort he offered. "We could put her in the trunk," she said taking his hand and standing, "she'd be warm and away from," she trailed off knowing she sounded silly for caring about a deer that wrecked their car.

"From the wolves," Lorne finished for her nodding; the amount of caring in her being what had attracted him to her from the very first time he saw her. "Go get the bags."

She did as he said grabbing her suitcase and purse and his case before waiting as he carried the deer and closed the trunk, going back long enough to kick some snow over the blood. "Come on," he sighed, grabbing everything but her purse, "we got about an hour of a walk."

"You want me to take anything?" she asked seeing from his clenched jaw and the line his lips thinned out to that something was hurting besides his head. But he only muttered no before continuing on down the road, leaving her little else to do but follow behind him.


	4. and run to the gun

_**zhlflu: thank you so much, I'm really glad you're liking it.**_

_**ziggystardust1994: I'm very glad to hear you liked both chapters, and that you think I'm not completely ruining Lorne - that makes me feel better about writing him. I'm also glad you liked the deer scene, I quite enjoyed writing it cause I think it's one of the only scenes in the show itself where we see he's got a soft spot somewhere in there - and I just really enjoyed adding my OC to it. I hope you had a good holiday weekend too, I know I enjoyed the Monday off, it was nice to sleep in.**_

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She stepped in the holes his footfalls made, the snow coming up to her calves making walking difficult; and he'd shortened his strides when he'd looked back to find what she was doing, and knowing she hadn't thought of it but it could turn out as a good thing to have only one set of footprints leading away from the car. "Hey look," she said when he'd helped her over the pile of snow and onto the road, and he turned to see the headlights in the distance. "Think they'll stop?"

Within five minutes the truck stopped in front of the two, Lorne keeping Olivia at his back as he waited to see who they were taking a ride from – willing to kill them and steal their truck if the need arose. "What are you fellas doin' out so late without a car?" a young man's voice asked as he jumped down out of the truck and came around the side into view: he was no more than nineteen, just a kid.

"We hit a deer," she answered seeing Lorne was sizing the kid up, feeling his hand come around her waist and hold her behind him.

"Aw geeze I bet it wrecked your car," the boy said looking around. "Is that it there?"

Lorne turned to the taillights glowing from their car and rolled his eyes. "You see anyone else stranded on the road?" he asked rhetorically, looking down at Liv when she hit his arm.

"He's a kid," she said sternly, "you're not hurting him." Yet his arm tightened around her when she made to move forward, and she dug her knuckles in his ribs hearing him grunt. "I mean it this time, Lorne," she hissed, not knowing how long it would take her before she could stomach his face if he killed this boy. "Yeah it is our car, you wouldn't happen to be going near Bemidji, would you?"

The boy looked to see her come out from behind the man and he smiled. "Yes ma'am, that's where I live. Let me get your bag."

Lorne watched him closely as he stood near Liv, a hand by his side prepared to grab his knife as he moved with his case around the back of the truck. "What are you doing out so late, son?" he asked, giving her a look at having to play nice.

"Tommy," he answered before taking the suitcase and her bag and loading them in the bed of the truck. "I can take that," he offered reaching for Lorne's case, though he recoiled at the look on his face. "I was seeing my girl, she lives over in Wilson. She's not as pretty as you ma'am," he said smiling shyly.

"Olivia, and thank you," she said moving around the truck for the door. Lorne's hand on her waist kept her from sliding in the middle and she bit back a smile when Tommy climbed in and turned to find Lorne sitting against him and her on the other side. "Do you know where the hotel is by the hospital, they said it was literally right beside it?"

Tommy nodded looking around the man to see her. "Well don't you know it, I live no more than five minutes from the very same place," he said taking his eyes from the road to smile at her, though his smile fell at the sight of the man's face and he turned back to the road. "So are you, you uh, you her dad?" he stuttered uncomfortable with him sitting so close; and he chanced a look at the man to see his hard eyes still boring into his face.

"No," he answered without blinking, without even moving.

"Oh," the boy said now wishing he hadn't stopped; the lady was nice, sweet as pie his mother would say, but the man sure wasn't. "Oh," he said again realizing what that meant, "so you're together then?" he asked shocked at seeing the older fella had managed to snag such a pretty woman, and young too. "Well golly," he exclaimed smiling, "you're a lucky man finding a woman such as herself." Though the man's eyes were still no friendlier when he turned to him, but the woman smiled kindly from around him. "My girl, Margie, she's pretty great too. Oh, you know, her cousin hit a deer once too about two months maybe three, or a year ago I'm not really sure. But she said the car didn't run no more, was completely ruined."

Lorne sat thinking of killing the kid just to shut him up as he continued talking and he turned his hard eyes to the reason Tommy was still alive, seeing her smiling as she looked up at him. "Thank you," she said softly, knowing he was loathing every second of it.

That wasn't quite was he was expecting; he'd turned to her with the intention of letting her know he was anything but happy with her – and he'd planned to remind her later that if he wanted to kill someone she had no place refusing, something he'd reminded her of before – but her quiet 'thank you' told him she knew he could take whomever's life he so chose, and that she knew he hadn't because she'd asked him not to. Two simple words, used in passing everyday, and yet he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I'm starting to think you're the pain in the ass," he told her, taking the hand she had on his arm and bringing it to his mouth, feeling how cold her skin was and knowing he'd have to get her gloves.

Tommy, having turned to look at them briefly, saw the man facing her with her hands in his as he warmed them – and he smiled to himself as continued driving.

"Thank you for stopping for us," she told him when he pulled up to the motel.

Tommy nodded as he grabbed her bags. "It was nothing miss," he told her scuffing a foot on the ground as he smiled.

She shook her head at how sweet he was and turned to Lorne. "I'm gonna get the key."

They both watched her go and Tommy looked back to the man warily as he reached into his pocket. "For your trouble," Lorne said holding out two twenties and waiting as he thanked him before grabbing his case. "You should be thanking whatever god you believe in she was here," he told him seriously. "I would've taken your truck and let you freeze to death."

After several minutes talking to the woman at the front desk, who had spent most of her time telling Olivia some story she was too tired to care for, before she finally returned to Lorne. "You scared him away," she said at seeing the kid was gone and he was smirking as he reached for her suitcase. "I can get it," she told him though he shook his head and followed her to the room that had been bought for her. "You should let me look you over," she said dropping her purse on the table and turning on the heater.

"I'm fine, Liv," he said putting their bags down and pulling his boots off. Though she wouldn't be told no and he sighed before letting her clean his head and taking the ibuprofen she handed him. "Get in the bed," he told her when she tried to lift his shirt, knowing she'd leave to find a convenience store if she saw the bruise.

With a hard look she sighed. "Fine, but you're coming by the hospital tomorrow," she told him sliding her pants off and crawling in the bed beside him and laying her head over his chest. "I could've died," she said softly, having woken knowing she'd go through the windshield – and she would've, if Lorne hadn't thrown her back. It's what he'd known too, the moment the car slid off the road his arm had come out to stop her from going forward; leaving his head to slam into the steering wheel and his ribs into the seatbelt.

He woke to her dressed and sitting beside him, her hands warm and gentle over his bruised side. "I'll come by the hospital," he assured her, knowing she wouldn't leave without his word.

"I will come back with bandages if you don't," she told him, returning his tired smile before kissing his cheek and leaving. It was already passed noon - having met with the chief who'd expressed his gratitude at her coming, said hello to the young boy she'd come for and seen the relief in the mother's eyes as she nearly cried at seeing a face she trusted, gotten her tour, and taken up hours working the E.R. under the request of the chief – before she saw him sitting in the waiting room.

She'd gone to the desk to see about her next patient, a man with a broken nose, to find the nurse away from the desk with his file.

"Yeah, I'm coming for Pete's sake," she heard a man exclaim, and she rounded the corner to find her broken nosed man and Lorne staring up at him; and from the look in Lorne's eyes she knew he'd started something, and he nearly smiled when he saw her behind the nurse.

"Oh Doctor, I'm so sorry for the delay, I asked Mr. Nygaard to come back at least five times," the nurse said when she took notice of the woman behind her.

Even Lester stared at her guiltily knowing he'd taken up her time for her to come out here. "It's alright, I'd say he's had a rather rough day," she smiling kindly at the man, seeing the relief in his eye as he smiled in return. Though her smile thinned when she turned to the man still sitting in a chair, and he looked up at her innocently. "There's a bin right there for your can," she said pointing to the recycling can against the back wall.

Lester looked at the man surprised at the way she'd spoken to him, not quite so friendly as she'd been to him, and remembering how serious he'd been about killing a man – though Lester saw the man's eyes were trained on the doctor as she walked away, and he followed his line of sight to see his eyes were watching the sway of her hips. Quickly he looked away embarrassed, hoping no one had seen where he'd been looking, and he looked once more to the man – only he now had his eyes aimed directly at Lester.

"Mr. Nygaard?"

"Oh, yes," he said turning not sure what she'd said before, he'd been trying to shake off what the man had said before, and the feeling that he knew the doctor.

She sighed seeing Lorne had gotten in his head. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad would you say the pain is?" she repeated gently as they walked to the room she would see him in.

He paused as he thought of how to answer. "Oh well uh, it's about a, um I guess you could say it's a, well uh. Aw heck," he said not even able to tell her straight what he thought; he didn't want to say an eight because she'd probably think he was weak, but he didn't want to say a number too low in case she didn't give him anything.

"Mr. Nygaard," she said gently seeing he was distressed, and knowing Lorne probably had a big hand in that, "I've had a broken nose before, it hurts quite a bit doesn't it?" He nodded relieved she'd understood his bumbling, his shoulders slumping as he followed after her. "Okay, I'll get you something for it first before I check it out," she said sitting him down on the examination table and looking through the cabinets for ibuprofen or acetaminophen, until finally she found it and a numbing skin ointment she stumbled upon. "I have to ask you, Mr. Nygaard, and I don't want you to be offended," she started as she dabbed the cream on as gently as she could, "but was this a domestic incident?"

He stared at her startled at the thought before shaking his head. "No, oh no Dr. Anderson, my Pearl wouldn't, I mean she'd never," he stuttered continuing to shake his head.

"I didn't think she did," Olivia said assuring him, "it's a mandatory question we have to ask with these kinds of things," she explained putting him once more at ease only to have to make him uncomfortable again. "Though I do have to ask what happened."

He nodded knowing he had to tell her and not wanting to out of embarrassment, already hearing how his wife would tease him. "Well it was, you see it wasn't a uh incident per say, it was just a misunderstanding," he said looking at her to see her listening; and he really didn't want to have to look her in the eye and tell her what had happened, and she was so pretty and nice and he knew she'd laugh at him. "A uh a, a friend of mine, or I guess he's not a friend, he made to punch me and I hit the, the, the uh, the window and my nose just it just well," he trailed off looking at his hands in his lap not wanting to see the look on her face, not when she'd been so nice before.

"Mr. Nygaard?" she asked softly forcing him to look up at her meekly, "would you like to press charges?"

"Oh, no no that's not, it was nothin' you know, just a little uh, prank," he said quickly not wanting to have to admit this to anyone else, least of all his wife.

She nodded understandingly before gently prodding around the skin of his nose. "Does this hurt less than before?" she asked and waited for him to say yes before she returned to the cabinets and looked for the sutures. "Well it looks like you'll need about two stitches, which you won't have to keep in even a week," she told him seeing him swallow at the sound of stitches.

"Dr. Anderson, a patient is here requesting you, Dr. Bakus was gonna have a look at him but he was askin' for you," a nurse said.

Olivia nodded knowing exactly who it was, and she turned to Mr. Nygaard – who didn't really want her to go; he couldn't remember the last time anyone had been so nice to him, had actually made him feel like he was worth caring about. "Mr. Nygaard," she said looking at him firmly, "I don't know you but, I would say you deserve a lot better than what you're given." With a small smile she bid him a good day, leaving him to stare after her entirely touched by her words.

It was several minutes before he finally left the room, a bandage across his aching nose, and the sound of Dr. Bakus laughing behind him about the wimp that he was; he wished Dr. Anderson had stayed, she wouldn't have been so rough with his nose, she would have spoken in her sweet voice and made him feel better about everything. Lester, out of habit, looked to his right at the sight of a half opened door – glancing in and prepared to keep going – and paused at the sight of a long blonde ponytail and the man he'd spoken to earlier. He'd been the one to ask for her, and Lester watched as Dr. Anderson sat wrapping the man's ribs and Lester watched shocked as he reached a hand to her face – it was such a tender gesture, one that didn't suit the man at all from the way he'd been talking about killing, but it made her smile as she looked up at him. The two obviously were on very familiar terms, he couldn't remember a time his wife had ever looked at him the way she looked at the man. And Lester watched unable to look away as the man took her face in his hands and kissed her – he didn't know if he could call it a kiss, it looked as though he literally wanted to devour her and she seemed only so willing to let him.

Lester's mouth opened and a chocked gasp escaped him when he realized the man was looking at him, still kissing her fiercely, and as quickly as Lester had stopped he hurried away; leaving Lorne smiling as he closed his eyes once more and pulled Liv closer.

…

Molly stood with Vern beside the crashed car going over what she'd found when she arrived. "I noticed a mark in the snow over here," she said going around to the passenger's side, "I thought maybe someone tried to open the door, don't know from inside or out though," she said not seeing even the smallest signs of footprints.

"You wanna open it up, see if it matches?" Vern offered with a shrugged. Molly looked to him and waited for him to nod before she pulled the handle and slid the door open, stopping where the bottom edge had hit the snow the night before and left the mark. "I'd say that's a match," Vern told her.

Molly nodded. "Doesn't say who opened the door though, could be a second person," she said catching sight of something glinting as it floated past her head. "What's that?" she asked trying to follow it and seeing another glint of the sunlight on it before she lost it on the wind.

Vern looked to where she stared. "What was what?"

"I think it was a hair," she answered, not happy it had gotten away, "maybe blonde."

He nodded looking at the car again. "I guess make a note of a possible blonde having been in the car, could be from somewhere else," he said not concerning himself with it too much for the time as he circled back around to look at the driver's side.

Molly followed after him scribbling in her notepad of a possible second passenger with long blonde hair; and if she were an out of towner, she'd certainly be easy to notice if she was still in Bemidji.

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_**So I got excited to get to Lester and the hospital scene, which is why the chapter turned out so long. I wasn't expecting writing the accent and their manner of speaking, and Lester's character as well, to be so difficult. So please let me know if it's not good so that I can find a way to fix it for future chapters. Thanks for reading everyone, hope you're enjoying it!**_


	5. they say I'm the killer

**_Ziggystardust1994: thank you so much, I'm so glad to hear you think I did Lester's character justice; cause he's so sweet and bumbling and completely not confident in anything. And I'm also very glad to know you like the little things between Lorne and Liv; they're not very little this chapter, they're actually kind of big - but I'm loving writing them. And another thing I'm very glad to hear is that you think I'm blending her into the story, because I'm trying very hard to make it as seamless as possible; in my head I'm watching it as the show, so I've been hoping that it read like she's just a continuation of what's going on. So in short, thank you very much for review :)_**

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Olivia walked down the hall to the room the nurse had pointed to, and smiled when she saw Lorne sitting on the table. "My last patient seemed to be under a lot of stress, you wouldn't by any chance know why that was, would you Mr. Malvo?"

He sat and pondered for a moment before shaking his head. "No, Dr. Anderson, I'm afraid I don't," he told her looking at her perfectly innocent.

She might have been fooled if she didn't know him better, she knew how manipulative he could be when he wanted something – only she'd always been able to see through him, and now she knew him enough to know the moment he looked at her what he wanted. "You're full of shit," she said grabbing a new pair of gloves, hearing him chuckling at her back. She found a swab and the hydrogen peroxide solution and turned back to him to finally check him over.

"That's no way to talk to a patient," he said when she stood in front of him, spreading his legs around her and forcing her closer, "especially one with a head injury."

Rather than answering him she began cleaning around where the steering wheel had broken the skin, seeing it had developed a nice scab overnight. She stood between his legs brushing his hair out of the way as she cleaned the dried blood he hadn't let her the night before, feeling his hands trail up her sides. "What part of, I have to be professional, do you forget when you sit on an examination table?" she asked him at the feel of his hand on her breast.

"The part where I have this fantasy of you in a little nurse's outfit coming in, asking me what hurts."

She looked at him not believing him for a second, though the look on his face made her laugh. "That's not happening," she said before tossing the swab in the trash and lifting his shirt. All evidence of a smile left her face at the sight of the dark bruise over the right side of his ribcage, which looked even worse under the stark pale hospital lights than in the hotel room. "On a scale of one to ten?" she asked, having asked him that same question enough he knew the end to it.

He shrugged feeling the muscles over his ribs stretch, and of course her eyes had caught the tightening of his mouth – he sometimes forgot how much she cared about him. "Four, four and a half," he answered easily.

"So a seven," she said looking from his ribs to his face and waiting for him to nod before she turned and grabbed the ibuprofen. "I should have wrapped them yesterday," she said grabbing the compression bandage roll.

"Yeah, let me see your hips," he said when she came back to him, his hands reaching up to either side of her waist. "You're not in any better shape than I am."

As much as she wanted to agree with him, because it'd make him happy for her to let it go, she knew it was hurting him. "It doesn't hurt when I breathe, in fact I can barely feel it. Where as I can't even place my hand," doing as she said and placing her palm on his ribs she heard him inhale sharply, "would you like me to continue?"

He gave her a look before lifting his shirt so she could wrap him, knowing she'd never stop until she did. She ran the roll around him gently making sure she didn't add any pressure against where he was bruised, she was gentle and thorough – she made a great doctor.

She looked up at the feel of his hand brushing a stray hair behind her ear, his thumb reaching out to stroke her cheek; she knew she worried a lot when he was hurt, it was her job as a doctor. And seeing his tenderness, even if it was forced for her benefit, made her smile. Though nothing in his eyes had prepared her for him to pull her mouth to his, at him forcing his tongue past her lips, at her own desperate need as her fists wound in his shirt and pulled her closer against him. She felt him smile against her mouth, not knowing he had caught sight of Lester Nygaard, not knowing Lorne was adding only more fuel to the fire that burned in Lester against his wife; she didn't know any of this, she was too lost in him to care.

"How many times," she breathed pulling away from him, straightening his shirt and her own coat as she sat back on the stool. "I could get put on suspension for something like this," she told him seeing his smirk and knowing he'd done it on purpose. "When you decide to come back to the motel you can finish what you started, until then you're free to go," she said standing and reaching for his chart to sign him out.

"I haven't kissed you like that in a while," he said seeing he'd flustered her, and she made it so easy all she needed was a little desire and she melted completely in his hand.

She sighed leaning against the counter. "No, you haven't."

"Would you like me to later?" he asked stepping down from the table and moving behind her.

His face blank when she looked up at him, leaving the answer entirely up to her. "If you want," she said filling out the last bit as his arms wrapped around her waist.

He held her against him and breathed in the smell of her shampoo. "I think I'll like it here."

She looked up at him to see him thinking as he leaned against her; she knew that look. "Just don't kill everyone," she told him softly, lifting her face as he bent to kiss her cheek. "I should be back by eight," she said handing him the papers to give to the lady at the front desk.

The chief let her go a little early, she hadn't really been assigned to work anything other than her little boy that day – she'd only stayed and helped in the E.R. as a favor when the chief said they were understaffed. And so when eight rolled around and Lorne returned, he found her sitting with three books open on the bed and one in her lap as she sat against the headboard. "Hey, how was your day?"

He moved a book and sat to pull his shoes off. "Well enough, how was yours?"

She shrugged as she reached into the chip bag beside her. "I'm working tomorrow probably in the E.R. again, and I'm not closer to finding anything to explain what's happening with Frankie, well at least not anything we haven't already tested," she said turning another page and seeing more useless words. Nothing she found was of any use, and the boy was having seizures more frequently; none of their tests were coming back positive for anything. "I'll have to rent a car tomorrow so I can actually go into town," she said setting the book aside and grabbing another chip.

"I'll do it for you," he said laying down beside her, not being entirely honest when he'd already gotten her one; but he planned to use it tomorrow before he left it with her.

She turned to him suspiciously. "You're leaving soon," she said seeing on his face she was right, and that he wanted to know how she knew. "You're never just nice," she muttered crunching on another chip and turning on the tv. She didn't pay much mind to him taking her hand as she flipped through the different channels; it wasn't until she felt his tongue on her skin that she turned to find him staring hard at her as he brought her thumb to his mouth. She watched his lips close around her thumb, his tongue running along her skin, his teeth grazing her flesh; his dark eyes never left hers as he moved, tossing the books aside as he settled on top of her. "Hi there," she said softly as she stared up at him, feeling his hand under her chin as he brought her mouth to his.

…

She woke to her watch beeping and she reluctantly sat up to turn it off, not quite ready to start the day. Lorne was warm at her back, his arm still around her waist, and she looked at their clothes scattered on the floor. "You should brush your teeth," he mumbled behind her, having been awake when her alarm had gone off.

"I'm trying to decide if it's worth it," she said looking over her shoulder at him to see his bare chest – she just wanted to lay back down and sleep for another hour.

He looked up at her smirking. "You could stay, repeat last night."

She smiled shaking her head; "I may never leave," she told him before standing, not bothering to grab anything to cover herself with as she made to take a quick shower.

Most of the day she spent once more working the E.R, one man coming in with appendicitis she'd done surgery on, but mostly she spent the day running her sick little boy through x rays and MRIs, PET scans; all she'd found was his brain had somehow grown smaller – which from the lack of anything on the other scans, she had no cause. She'd eaten dinner at the hospital again, because Lorne was doing something with the rental car, before walking the short distance back to the hotel where she washed the hospital smell out of her hair. The chief had asked if she'd work through tomorrow til Thrusday morning, and so she'd settled down for the night knowing she'd be exhausted come Thursday. She was already so close to sleep that she didn't take much note of the door opening, she didn't even know he was there until she felt him lay around her.

"Hey," he said in greeting, grabbing the wrist of the hand she'd brought to his face and held her there; enjoying the feel of her for the moment.

"You planning on coming back?" she asked proving she knew he was leaving.

He smiled briefly as she turned into his chest. "I'll try to call, but it'd be best if you had no ties to me so I'll stay in another hotel for the night. And it's Duluth," he said before she could ask where he was going. He felt her nod as she burrowed further against him knowing she'd fall back asleep within minutes; though instead of leaving the moment her breathing evened, as he would've done any other night, he continued lying with her against him simply breathing. But he was gone when she woke, and she was still turned as though to face him, leaving her to sigh before pulling herself out of the bed and into to the bathroom to get ready.

She ran blood work and a tox screen, any test they had to do she gave the poor kid hoping to find something; but there was nothing.

"We've run all the tests we can and we haven't been able to find anything," she told his mother after she'd pulled her out of the room. "I'm not sure there's much else to do but wait and hope his condition doesn't worsen, and pray that a cause is found." She'd waited with the mother as she tried to gather herself, held her as she cried, assured she would stay – Olivia didn't have the heart to tell her with how quickly his condition was declining she didn't think he would make it a month, she'd had to leave that with Frankie's actual doctor because she didn't know if she'd be able to look at either of them without crying.

And so when lunch came around she stepped out of the hospital almost relieved to be taking even a short break to pick up some food.

Lester looked up from Lorne Malvo to see the woman who had walked in, and he waited until she'd ordered before speaking. "Dr. Anderson," he said calling her attention to him.

"Mr. Nygaard," she said surprising him by her knowing his name, "how's the nose today?"

He brought a hand up as though to touch it before nodding. "Oh i- it's good, still hurts but not nearly as much," he told her as she stepped closer.

She looked at the small bandage covering the stitches. "Do you mind?" she asked waiting for him to nod before she peeked to see how they were. "Well I'm quite impressed, he set your nose quite well. I don't think you'll be able to tell it was broken."

Lester smiled; "Aw heck, that's good to hear. So how are you today?"

Her smile faltered slightly, enough for Lorne to notice as he watched her face closely. "It's good," she said glad to see Lester bought her false cheeriness, not wanting to have to explain what it was.

"Did something happen?"

Both Olivia and Lester turned at the sound of Lorne's voice, though his eyes were staring hard at her as he waited for an answer. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No, nothing has happened," she said knowing he'd understand what she meant. She turned in relief when her order was called to take the bag from the woman behind the counter.

Lester had watched the way Lorne's eyes followed her, at the depth of his stare; he realized at Lorne's question that she hadn't been honest when she'd said everything was good, and he thought again of Lorne kissing her and what it meant. "Do you know," he made to ask but the words died in his throat the moment Lorne turned his eyes to him and Lester looked away from his quickly and back to the doctor.

"Come by in a day or two and have them removed," she told him before she made to leave.

"Could you," Lester started, "could you do it?" he asked before he lost the nerve. "The, the uh, the other doctor," he said swallowing, "he wasn't very um, he wasn't, you were real nice," he said finally, looking up at her briefly before turning away.

She smiled softly at his stuttering knowing he'd never be the same again now that he'd met Lorne. "When you come in ask for me, and if I don't have my hands in a body cavity then I'm all yours," she told him kindly, waiting as he stumbled over a thank you before leaving.

Lester saw the man raise a hand as she passed by him, brushing his fingers against hers, and Lester nearly saw her sigh in relief as though she'd needed that touch just be able to breathe. They were a strange pair, he thought as he looked from Dr. Anderson to Lorne to find the man once more staring hard at him – his eyes saying all Lester needed to know to never speak a word of her.

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**_Well this is the end of the first episode and I'm now on to the second. Do you guys want me to do that, say when I finish with an episode so it might be a little easier to follow along?_**


	6. and thy will be done

**_Ziggystardust1994: thank you so much for always reviewing, I can't tell you enough how much it means to me; and how much it makes my day to get them._**

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Come Thursday morning Olivia was more than ready to go back to the hotel room with the bagful of books she'd taken from the study, hoping to find something as she waited for the current test she'd done to come back positive or negative. If she were honest she wanted it to come back negative, because if she was right in her thinking then there was nothing they could do for him.

"Did you hear what happened to Lester Nygaard?"

"Oh a real tragedy that one."

She paused at the mention of Lester and stood listening to what had happened the night before, questioning whether he'd welcome a visitor, before she peeked at what room he was in.

"He's not taking visitors, ma'am," the nurse said when Olivia made to knock on the door.

Lester turned to see who it was this time, and though she wasn't in scrubs he recognized her blonde hair. "Dr. Anderson," he said almost relieved at seeing her. "Sh-she can come in," he said hoping to ask her about his hand. But when she sat down in the chair beside the bed he hesitated knowing she was a doctor, and if she had any suspicions about the wound she'd report it. "Thanks," he said quickly as he kept his hand under the blanket, "I'm um, I'm real glad you stopped by."

She smiled gently as she brushed back his hair to look at the knot that had formed. "You know, Mr. Nygaard, when I said to come back and have your stitches removed this wasn't quite what I meant."

He laughed at that, something that surprised him; he thought he might not be able to laugh again. "Well you, you never specified," he said smiling as she chuckled softly. "You know everyone keeps," he started, all mirth he'd had moments ago gone, "keeps saying they're sorry, like they, like _they_,"

She knew what it was he couldn't say, like they had killed his wife and shot that police officer; she didn't think he'd shot the officer, in fact she was very sure Lorne had killed him which meant Lester had killed his own wife. "Would you like me to go?" she asked softly. She waited for him to say yes, why wouldn't he when she was directly tied to the man that had set his life to ruin, and patted his arm making to stand when he didn't say anything. His hand on her wrist stilled her and she looked to his face to see him fighting off tears as he sat turned away from her.

Ten minutes she sat quietly beside him letting him cry, knowing he was grieving for the wife he'd killed and the officer's death he'd been responsible for; but more than that she knew he was grieving the man he used to be. It wasn't the first time Lorne had left her facing what he'd done, left her stuck between wanting to hate him for how truly evil he could be and then simply not being able to; he'd completely ruined her, and he knew it too.

"Thank you," Lester told her when he'd finally been able to compose himself, and he was left wiping beneath his eyes as she sat next to him patiently.

She smiled gently and nodded. "If you need anything at all," she told him, surprising him even more with her kindness – she was so different for Lorne Malvo, if he was darkness then she was the light; but even the sun and the moon shared the same sky for a time.

She left the hospital and headed across the street to the motel, planning to go straight to bed and worrying about showering and food later. But the sound of a phone ringing in her purse kept her from crawling in the bed and sleeping the rest of the day. "Hello?" she answered not knowing the number that was calling her.

"What do ministers wear?"

She sighed at the sound of Lorne's voice and laid back on the bed wishing he were beside her. "Ugly sweaters."

He smiled faintly knowing he'd caught her right before she'd lie down to sleep. "I'm gonna need you to be a little more specific than that."

"So what's your name this time?" she asked trying to keep her eyes open; lying back on the bed had been a mistake.

And he could hear it as she yawned. "Frank Peterson," he told her. "What are you doing right now?"

She rolled herself on her side to lay with the phone beneath her ear wanting to sleep and wanting to talk to him at the same time. "I'm laying on the bed," she answered with a sigh. "Kinda wish I was laying on you. I think it was a mistake coming with you, I don't like that you're gone."

If she had seen him she'd have taken one look at his smirk and known exactly what he was thinking. "Well if you have time you could come down here and help me pick out some ugly sweaters, maybe have dinner."

The moment he'd asked what ministers wear she'd figured she'd be going down there. "I know you're using my wanting to see you to get me to come down there, you know that right?"

"You know me well," he said sitting in the parking lot of Stavros' store, his face blank as he waited for what she would say – wanting his answer to come soon. There was much of him she didn't know, that he hadn't shown her knowing she'd loathe the man he was.

She sat up reluctantly and reached for her boots to lace them up, again. "Yeah, if I didn't know you well I might be in love with you," she said making him pause at her words. They weren't what he had expected; she had the habit of sometimes managing to take him completely off guard. With her boots laced she stood and grabbed her coat. "I should be there in two hours, where am I meeting you?"

"There's a thrift store down the road from Phoenix Farms, trust me you won't miss the supermarket," he told her turning the car off.

She knew he'd had it planned before he even called, already knowing he would convince her to drive out there – though it never took much convincing, and as much of a pain in the ass as he was, she always seemed to miss him. "Alright, I'll see you then," she said waiting for him to tell her goodbye before hanging up.

"Liv," he said instead of goodbye, and waited until he knew she was listening. "You are in love with me."

She stepped out of the warm room and into the frigid snowy morning, her sigh making a mark on the air as it drifted away from her. "I know."

…

He found her looking at a white sweater with a cart beside her. "You getting' these?" he asked, knowing she'd vowed never to wear thrift clothes again.

She shrugged before putting the sweater with the few others she thought were wearable: remembering the many times she and her mother had gone to thrift stores and goodwills looking for anything cheap. "I have to wear at least three different sweaters when I go outside, I didn't pack enough for that," she answered turning to find him putting a pair of woman's gloves in her cart.

"How's your kid?" he asked walking with her as she made her way to the men's clothes.

She flipped through the sweaters and jackets not paying most of them any mind. "If he has what I'm thinking I'll probably be home in a week," she said taking a gray and brown striped sweater and holding it up to his chest before putting it in the cart.

"What do you think he has?" He knew she was upset, her normally pleasant face was morose and tired, and she'd barely even turned to look at him.

She picked up another sweater before he took it and put it back, obviously becoming impatient. "Naegleria fowleri," she answered still not looking at him, knowing the moment she did there was a very large possibility she'd cry, "or something like it. He's already showing signs of Primary amoebic meningoencephalitis, added with his anosmia and ataxia and sporadic seizures, I don't see what else it could be," she told him brusquely.

From her use of medical terms he could tell she was incredibly upset, she knew he didn't like her using them without explaining what they meant; and he grabbed her chin before forcing her to face him. "I'm gonna need you to explain all that," he told her, having little patience to deal with this.

Her eyes were hard as she looked at him, knowing he'd read every sign that she hadn't wanted to talk about this – which meant he wasn't ready for her to go home, and he only wanted to know because he still needed her. "His sense of smell is gone, he's started losing the ability to control his muscle movements, he's had a few seizures that've grown more frequent, and last night he had a hallucination; the recent development of his symptoms has lead me to believe he contracted a brain eating amoeba which at this point in time there's nothing we can do for him except watch him die. I don't know what it is you're planning on needing me for but this kid has no more than a week and then I will be going home, so I suggest you find someone else," she said thrusting his hand away from her and pushing the cart forward, grabbing an ugly plaid blazer and throwing it in the cart.

His hands wrapping around her waist stilled her as he pulled her against him, holding her as he knew she wanted; he couldn't have her upset with him because she was right, he still needed her. "I don't want someone else," he told her softly feeling the breath leave her as she leaned against him.

Such sweet words those were, simple and sweet. "You say things like that and I almost believe you mean them."

And there it was again, her words taking him by surprise; as easy as it was to make her do what he wanted, he didn't like her seeing through him – he didn't like her knowing him as well as she did, which was more than he had previously thought. "I'll need you for a phone call, you can do that anywhere," he said turning her head in surprise – he didn't need her in Minnesota. And he further proved it by lifting her chin and kissing her gently.

Even then she didn't believe him, he wasn't a sweet man – granted she knew somewhere in him he cared about her but he'd never show it so willingly. "You know one of these days you're gonna realize you love me," she told him, smiling when his brows rose in amusement.

"Is that so?" he asked knowing how wrong she was.

She nodded before turning the cart around a clothing rack. "Granted I'll probably have to die for you to figure it out, but you'll get there," she said picking up a white collared shirt his size.

If she really did know she'd die because of him then she was smarter than he gave her credit, and she really would know him if she was aware he'd probably be the one to kill her. "I guess I'll find out," he said softly in her ear, his hands once more finding her hips. "Would you like dinner first and then the hotel, or the hotel and then dinner?"

She smiled at the feel of his hand trailing up her side to cup her breast, knowing he was working his way back on her good side – and she wondered if he knew he'd never even left, so lost to him was she. "I'm leaving after dinner so I can either follow you to the hotel or follow you to a restaurant, that decision is entirely up to you," she said offering him an innocent smile before taking their things to the cashier, leaving him to follow her with his wallet in hand knowing she was forcing him to admit what he wanted.

…

Two young teenage boys sat on their beds, one playing a game the other watching tv, waiting for their parents to come back to the hotel and pick them up for dinner. "Hey turn that down," Dylan said to his brother at the sound of soft thumping against their wall.

"What is it?" Cole asked turning the tv off.

"Shh." Dylan pressed his ear against the wall. "You gotta hear this."

Cole did the same and listened for what his brother was hearing. "Aw geeze," he said hearing a headboard slamming against the wall over and over, "he's really nailing her."

The two stood listening to the sound of a woman's moan beneath the pounding of the frame, again and again and again and again, her gasps growing more and frequent until finally they heard her and a man cry out. They continued to listen to the muffled voices behind the wall and moved to the window when they heard the door open. Cole groaned disgusted when he saw the older man step out of the room, "old people sex."

"Aw man, look at her," Dylan said when a blonde woman stepped out behind him. "How the heck did he get her?"

"You know she's probably thirty, you're like half her age," Cole said still not liking the idea of the older guy.

But Dylan shrugged. "Who cares, she's beautiful. Aw geeze he saw us."

Lorne turned at the feeling of being watched to find two boys staring out of the window beside his room. "It appears we had an audience," he said climbing in the car he'd gotten her.

But she only shrugged. "They're just boys."

He looked at her curiously. "You're not as mortified as I thought you'd be," he said knowing there were times she was quite the prude.

"I still remember the time you pushed me against the wall and screwed me _outside_ of a hotel room," she told him seeing him smirk as he remembered that. "And I'm pretty sure at least three people passed by us, and you just kept going."

He smiled as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "You say that as though you didn't enjoy it," he said turning to see the look on her face.

"I enjoyed the hell out of it," she told him, "I'm just saying two boys listening to us in a different room is nothing." She looked over at him to find him still smiling as he drove.

He looked to her and raised a brow. "I can always do it again," he told her.

She laughed shaking her head. "Shut up and take me to dinner," she said biting back a smile at his brief laugh, feeling his hand on her thigh.

…

_Friday Afternoon_

"Hiya, I'm here to see Dr. Anderson, is she working today?" Lester asked holding his right hand in his pocket as he looked at the nurse behind the desk.

"Do you have an appointment?"

He shook his head wondering if he should've called first. "No, no, she uh said I should come in if I needed anything."

The nurse looked at him blankly. "Sir, she's a very busy woman."

"I, I know, but she said,"

"You're gonna have to wait sir, as I said she's very"

"I know what you said," he exclaimed loudly before quickly apologizing, seeing he'd startled the nurse; the last thing he needed was security to be called. "I just need to talk to her is all. I'm sure if you, if you called her sh-she'd tell you she can see me. I'm sure of it."

The nurse nodded reaching for the phone planning to call security. "Of course, who do I say is askin' for her?"

"Mr. Nygaard," Olivia said when she saw him at the desk, seeing the nurse's relief. "It's alright, Maeve, I got it," she told the poor woman before motioning him to follow. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Oh yes, yes that would be great," he answered hoping they'd go somewhere private.

And as though she read his mind she led him to an empty room the staff sometimes used on break. "What can I do for you?" she asked handing him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," he told her before wondering if showing her his hand was a good idea – she may still report it. But she was staring at him waiting and he knew he had to say something. "Um, about uh Malvo," he started awkwardly as he stared into the styrofoam cup at the dark liquid, "you're very nice and uh, and and pretty. Would there ever be a chance a girl like you would look my way?" he asked saying the first thing that came to mind; and he'd wondered it from the moment he'd seen Malvo kiss her, that it seemed impossible for a woman like her to love a man like that.

She stared at him confused not quite sure what exactly he was getting at. "A girl like me, or me?" she asked. He gave a short awkward laugh before simply nodding and she sighed. "No," she answered honestly turning his eyes to her startled. "Don't take that wrong way, it's just Lorne," she broke off not sure how to say what she wanted to, not sure if there was even an explanation for it.

"He ruined you too," Lester finished for her, seeing in her eyes he was right. He was a murderer, a cold unfeeling evil man, and yet she'd given up enough of herself to be able to love him.

"Honestly?" she asked before shrugging. "I hadn't liked him when I first met him, he was so arrogant and sure of himself, and I don't typically go for guys like that let alone his age. But there was something in his eyes, something dark and," she took a breath as she remembered when she first met him, "he certainly captured my attention. And then some not very nice men noticed his interest in me and they came to my house, I guess to kidnap me," she said not noticing Lester's look of shock at how close to danger she lived. "Do you know what he did?" she asked almost smiling as though it were a fond memory, "he snuck up behind me and held his hand over my mouth and then waited until I saw it was him before he pulled back into my room. Then he shot the guys, he just held me against him and killed them; just like that," she said raising a shoulder. "I was horrified of course, but," she sat looking at the wall as though it might have the answers, "something about standing there against his chest I wasn't afraid, of him. And I've been lost to him ever since." She sat quietly staring at nothing, feeling her eyes burn, and she laughed before shaking herself. "Is that what you came to ask me?"

"No," he answered suddenly, regretting asking her about Malvo at all. "My uh, my my um, aw heck," he said before placing his throbbing hand on the table and sighing defeated. He winced when she lifted the bandaged and looked at the festering wound. "You have to report it don't you?"

She looked at him before turning back to the infection, knowing it was causing him a world of pain. "I'm gonna say this and I want you to know as selfish as it sounds I do care about your well being," she said waiting until he nodded bracing himself. "I can't report this without you admitting Lorne had been at your house, I'm guessing that's how you got it, when he shot the sheriff. So no, I won't report it. But I can't do anything for you unless I report it, do you understand?"

He nodded having been more afraid she'd have the police called, but he wasn't happy she couldn't help him either. "So what do I, what am I supposed to do?" he asked helplessly.

She gently pressed the bandage back into place, catching his wince, before she sat back. "Go to a pharmacy and ask for an anti-bacterial cream, if you can't remember that then ask for something that'll keep it from getting infected. Also get some hydrogen peroxide to keep it clean, it'll sting like bitch but it'll help kill the infection. You're also gonna have to squeeze the puss out, and then clean it," she said watching his shoulders slump at how much he knew it would hurt. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you."

"Oh no, you've been so, so nice," he told her not wanting her to feel any guilt for him when he'd done it to himself.

She smiled gently seeing Lorne had all but destroyed him. "You know, Mr. Nygaard, if you'd asked me if you stood a chance four years ago before I met him, I'd have said yes."

He looked up at her surprised to see her kind face, he could hardly believe there was ever a time she would've gone for him; he'd hardly been able to believe Pearl had. "And now?"

"Now he's in my blood," she answered, "and no one stands a chance." She sat quietly a moment as she tried to remember the person she used to be before he'd train wrecked into her life, but she shook her head and looked back to Lester. "Keep a close eye on it and call if it gets worse," she said scribbling her number on a notepad.

Lester took the paper and thanked her again, and then again. "I, I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you," he told her before he lost the nerve, giving her a small smile before leaving.

She stared after him and smiled bitterly. "Yeah, he doesn't."

* * *

**_So that was the end of episode two, well at least the parts she would be in. There's actually a few episodes she doesn't have much of a place in, so I'd finish it in one chapter like I did this one. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed._**


	7. and the doors won't be open

**_ziggystardust1994: I'm so glad you liked the scene at the thrift shop because it showed a lot between them - or at least I wanted it to. I think that might have been, at least for a second, the first scene where he was actually quite rough with her; and even then knowing who he is, she still gave him lip. And I like that phrasing, he'll snuff out her light - cause you're absolutely right, he is stealing little bits of her humanity. I've only mentioned it in a few places but she's actually quite callous to the people he kills, cause she knows that's who he is; and while I didn't say it, she does know her death will most likely come from him and yet she still can't leave him. I'm also super happy you think I'm capturing Lester's manner of speaking, cause he's difficult; but, and depending on how the show ends, it might be important that Lester is seeing first hand that Lorne did ruin her. But again, that'll depend on what direction the show takes. Thanks again for reviewing._**

**_Bob O: thank you so much for your review, I'm really glad to hear you like it. You are right, it was pretty difficult constructing her - not only to reach the decision of making her a doctor, but also to make her so fundamentally human; I mean granted she doesn't allow herself to care that Lorne kills people, but she's still a very caring individual; which I'm trying to show through not only the patient she went to Mn for, but also with Lester. But there's still a lot about her I haven't gone into yet, and there's a part of that that Lorne has a pretty big hand in - that probably was very confusing, but I don't want to give away too much. And I'll do the same with Wrench and Numbers, I'll just say stay tuned (wink wink)_**

* * *

When Olivia returned to work the next day she was given the task of doing rounds, checking in on all of the patients and their vitals, catching one woman who was showing signs of septic shock. But the remainder of her day she spent researching alternative medicines for her patient, the test requiring a day or two more and she was all but certain it would come back positive.

She was sitting in the small room the hospital kept their books in, a pitiful number of books actually lining the shelves though thankfully they also had a computer, when her phone rang. "Miss me already?" she answered when she saw the number.

"Honestly? Guess who the blackmailer is?"

She smiled at the sound of Lorne's voice, hearing tires on rock salt and realizing he'd called on his way somewhere. "Who all have you met again?"

"You think it's someone I met?" he asked not admitting whether it was or not, leaving it entirely up to her to figure out; and he wished, in that moment, he was sitting next to her to watch her as she thought.

She put the book she'd been skimming on the table and sat back as she thought about it. "Well you told me to guess so it would have to be someone you told me about. So there's the supermarket king, the wife, the son, the fire hydrant, and the trainer," she said counting them off on her fingers and pondering a moment before making her guess. "My money's on the trainer."

The corner of his mouth curled as he rounded a corner, finding the van he wanted and pulling to a stop. "He's blackmailing Stavros for something without knowing what it is, to open a Turkish bath," he muttered staring out of the car window.

She smiled at the irritation in his voice, wondering how long Lorne would keep him around. "Did you call just to tell me your blackmailer was an idiot?"

"You told me to call," he reminded her, "I'm calling."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you to come by," she corrected, there being a big difference between hearing his voice and seeing his face. "But I am glad you called, I like hearing from you."

He could easily picture the way she was sitting with her legs curled under her, a soft smile on her face. "Have dinner with me," he offered knowing she'd take it without any guiling.

And she knew it too, she knew how easy she was when it came to him. "What do you get out of it?" she asked knowing he wanted something other than seeing her.

He nearly smiled as he stepped out of the car. "You'll find out," he told her. "Get on 2 and drive an hour, there's a diner right off it," he said ready to hang up now that he knew she'd come.

"Alright, I might be thirty minutes late depending on when I can get off," she told him looking at the watch for the time. "I'm getting another call, I'll see you then," she said, waiting for him to tell her goodbye before switching over. "Hello?"

"Dr. Anderson, it's Lester," he greeted, "Nygaard," he added realizing she may not know his first name.

However she did know it, she knew several names of the people she had seen Lorne steamroll over and morph into something unrecognizable. "Hello Mr. Nygaard, how's your hand?" she asked getting straight to the point. After a few conversations with him she knew eventually, after he stumbled his way over something he really didn't mean to ask, she would have to be the one to bring it up anyways – so she figured she may as well get around the bush and save the beating.

"Oh it's uh, it's not well, I guess it's, do you have any other suggestions for what to do with it?" he asked not knowing exactly what to say. Deputy Solverson had all but forced him out of the pharmacy without the ointment the doctor had told him to get, and it was now oozing pus and blood and spreading.

She sat up concerned by his stuttering. "Mr. Nygaard did you go to the pharmacy like I said?"

He hesitated for several moments pressing his lips together as he looked down at his hand. "N-no, I uh had a bit of a uh,"

"Mr. Nygaard what does your hand look like?" she asked wishing she'd just cleaned the wound for him. But if it was ever found out that she did, on top of knowing it was related to a murder investigation, she could face jail time.

He looked at his hand with his now puffy fingers and dark blood vessels, knowing there was no way she'd leave it alone – and as much as it hurt him, he didn't want to get her or himself in trouble because of it. "Oh it's not that, well it's a little sore still but I-I think it's it's uh getting better, you know."

"Lester," she said silencing his false words, "if you let the infection continue you will lose your hand, and if it gets to your bloodstream you'll go into septic shock," she explained to him, knowing it was worse than he was saying because she knew he hadn't gone to the pharmacy.

He tried to laugh away her concerns, as frightening as they sounded knowing there was nothing to do but let it try to get better – which was the exact opposite of what she was saying, and so he couldn't tell her. "Okay Dr. Anderson, I'll keep better care of it, i-it's really not so bad."

"That's not,"

"I should probably go though," he said over her, "got a, a busy day at work you know. So uh, I I guess I'll talk to you another time then. So I, I uh I'll just, just go now. Okay, goodbye."

She listened as the call ended, her mouth pulled down in a frown as she searched for the number Lorne had called her from.

He'd just stepped away from the van with the Adderall when his phone rang. "Did something happen in the past three minutes?" he asked without saying hello.

"You broke Lester Nygaard," she told him without missing a beat.

He smiled amused as he climbed back in the car, that having been the plan. "How so?" he asked, knowing she'd be offended if he didn't – she'd taken a liking to the man.

"That isn't what matters," she said. "He has an infection from the buckshot that hit his hand when you killed the police officer, and I'm pretty sure he's right around the corner from needing hospitalization. He knows your name, what are you planning to do?"

With a sigh he pulled on his seatbelt and started the car. "While you're gonna refuse to believe this, Lester's nothing to worry about," he told her hoping she'd drop the subject.

And she really wanted to, she wanted to believe him when he said there was no reason to worry, the problem was that she was worried. Lester knew his name, he knew her name, he knew Lorne cared about her; if he was pressured by the wrong people about Lorne she knew he would tell them everything, which meant she'd get caught in the crossfire. "Are you sure?"

He knew from the softness of her voice that she wasn't worried for Lester's sake. "How many times do I have to tell you, 'I won't let anything happen to you,' before you believe it?" he asked pulling onto the road as he headed back to Stavros' mansion. The sound of her sigh let him know she was giving in and he smiled. "I'll see you at dinner," he told her gently, setting her mind at ease with his words.

It wasn't a promise he would be in the position to keep; he was over a two hour drive away from her. Neither of them knew the danger that was slowly creeping their way each passing day, or that the words of one broken man would send it straight to her.

…

She had been right in her being late, and she sat down opposite him to find a glass of water at her seat and no menu in sight. "You already ordered," she said reaching for the glass. His only answer was a half smile and his hand reaching for hers, though he pulled away when the waitress set down their plates. "I'm not gonna see you for a bit, am I?" she asked.

"No," he told her, watching her sigh before she took a bite of the pasta he'd ordered her. "I can call if you'd like," he offered.

She looked up from her food to see him cutting into his steak, though he set down both fork and knife before reaching into his coat pocket for the knife he always kept on him. "If you have time."

He looked up to find her the corners of her mouth curled as she took another bite of her food. "I can make time," he told her, watching her smile as he knew she would.

They sat quietly for a few moments as they ate, the sound of them chewing and his knife scraping against his plate all the noise they made; until finally she broke the silence. "What'll you do now that you found the blackmailer?" she asked knowing he had some kind of plan if he was still working.

"Take over what he started," he answered.

Her brows raised in surprise. "So you went there to find his blackmailer and you're now gonna be the one doing the blackmailing?" she asked, to which he nodded without saying a word as he waited for what she would say. "That's genius," she said as she thought about it; the guy would never think the man he hired would be blackmailing him, there was no better cover than that. "I'm sure you'll have fun," she said meeting his stare to find him almost smiling, his hand once more covering her own on the table.

"Can I get you folks anything else?" their waitress said making him once more recoil.

"No, this'll be all," he told her, waiting as she cleared their plates before throwing down two bills and standing. "How often would you like me to call?" he asked as they walked out of the diner.

She shrugged knowing if he had it his way he'd only call if he needed something. "Whatever you feel like," she answered leaving it up to him, kissing him chastely before walking to her car and climbing in. "What are you doing?" she asked when she turned to find him settling in the passenger's seat.

He raised a shoulder. "Visiting," he answered coyly.

She laughed lightly before turning to face him. "You planning on telling me why you really asked me down here?"

His answer was to lean forward and pull her in for a kiss, moving his mouth over hers agonizingly before pulling back and looking at her warm face. "Maybe I wanted to do that," he said softly, running a hand along her cheek as he stared hard at her. "I'm quite fond of ya, don't ya know."

So surprised was she by the sound of a Minnesotan accent that she gave a short laugh. "That was good," she told him, that having not been what she expected at all. "And surprisingly, my desire to sleep with you is now gone."

He smiled briefly before sitting back, that having been half of what he needed. "Your turn," he said surprising her further.

"Is this for the phone call you're expecting?" she asked, rolling her eyes when he nodded. She tried her hand at the accent, finding it wasn't too hard if she could just get down the weird phrasings. "I'll have to remember to tell a story, can't be a Minnesotan without a story for everything," she muttered. "I swear, I spend half the time with patients just standing there listening to them blow air." She turned to see him watching her, a queer little curl of the corner of one side of his mouth; and for one of the first times she had no idea what he was thinking. "You should change your hair," she said taking him out of whatever thought he'd been lost in as she reached a hand up to brush the hair hanging over his forehead to the side. Several times she did this so that the hair would stay until finally it didn't look like someone used a bowl to cut it. "I kinda like it."

He pulled down the visor and looked at what she'd done, it felt awkward enough. "You never liked my hair," he said giving her look before turning back to his reflection; he didn't like it, but it would work.

She waited as he righted his hair was once more, which somehow took longer than her fixing it had. "Let me do it," she said before running her fingers through the front of it and smoothing it over his forehead. And then she sat back and just looked at him, wondering when his face and his god-awful hair had become attractive to her. "You should go," she said knowing he was now only staying cause she wasn't ready for him to leave, "drive the guy that hired you crazy." She knew if he didn't leave then she might not be able to let him.

He cupped the side of her face as he stared in her soft brown eyes, seeing nearly everything she was thinking. "Yeah, I got two containers of pig blood in the back of my car."

Her brows furrowed as she thought of why. "You don't need to explain," she told him making him smile.

"I wasn't going to," he responded, pulling her to him to kiss her softly before leaving her.

She started the car almost wanting to go to him and tell him she'd skip going to the hospital tomorrow, ask to stay with him the night; she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was going to go wrong, and it all but disappeared when he was there. But she put the car into drive and turned out of the parking lot, leaving the opposite direction as him, and driving back to an empty hotel room.

* * *

**_And that was all of episode three. For next chapter I'm probably gonna do all of episode 4 and then part of episode 5, cause she's not very relevant in episode 4 but in like two places. And then the chapter after, stuff is gonna go down and I cannot wait._**


	8. when I finally come

**_Ziggystardust1994: thanks :) I'm really glad you liked the chapter; I quite enjoyed it because it was very centered on her and Lorne's relationship. And yes, when it comes down to it she will always chose Lorne; and I'm very glad to know you caught that with her going to him after she talked to Lester. And I'm also really glad you liked their interactions in the car because I think from the diner and on was one of the first times I showed that yeah he is a cold blooded killer, but he can still kind of be normal with her - in the way that Lorne does normal, cause it's a little different. I've also tried to show that by only calling her Liv when in relation to him - whether he's talking to her or thinking about her - cause he's the only person that calls her that. So that's just another little way I tried to show that they're in a relationship; no it's not conventional, no he would never think of it like that; but it is a relationship._**

* * *

"She thinks I'm getting a cat."

Lorne paused a moment realizing the man was even more of an idiot than he'd thought before. "I don't have time for this, do they have 'em, yes or no?"

"Yeah but only a hundred," Don answered.

"Okay," he said slowly, regretting having not asked Liv, she would've figured this all out herself, "there are three other pet stores in the city so hit 'em all. I'm in jail, I'll be out in a few hours."

"Wait what?" Don asked panicked.

Lorne didn't have time or the desire to explain, and his time had run out. "Call the number I gave you, tell the woman that answers to expect a call to Florence Nightgarden,"

"Time's up," the officer informed him.

Lorne looked over his shoulder to the officer and nodded before turning back to the payphone and lowering his voice. "Ok, two hours come get me."

…

Olivia was standing at the nurses station filling out a discharge form when her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered not recognizing the number calling.

"Hi there."

She paused at the unfamiliar man's voice wondering who was calling her. "Hi," she said before waiting for them to continue; "who is this?" she asked when they didn't.

"Oh it's Don," he answered, bending down to look in a pet cage.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes she nodded remembering Lorne telling her that was the trainer's name. "Hello Don, what did he want you to tell me?"

Don looked up from the little bin of crickets the girl was collecting for him. "Oh uh, one second I wrote it down," he said before searching his pockets for the little paper Frank had written the number on. "He told me to tell ya a call was gonna come to a Florence Nightgarden. I'm guessing you're Florence, so it's nice to meet you ma'am."

She stood with a pen in hand and her tongue in her cheek. "Seriously?" she muttered closing the chart and handing it to the nurse, "that's what he named me?" She sighed before brushing loose strands of hair out of her face. "Thanks for calling Don," she told him as she made her way to the hospital's "library".

"Oh it's no problem, Florence," he said pleased by her thanks, Frank wasn't exactly a pleasant guy. "You know, if you're ever lookin' for a trainer or someone to help you workout, I'm your guy."

She laughed shaking her head. "I'll remember that."

"And I could, you know, give you a discount," he offered smiling at her soft laughter.

She ran a hand over her hair not exactly knowing how to respond. "Okay, I'll let you know. Alright, bye now." She was still chuckling when she got the small library, and she shook her head wishing she could see Lorne's face when he talked to him.

It was nearly a half hour of looking through the different books for any form of treatment on meningoencephalitis, but there wasn't much in the form of a treatment – there was only a little over a 1% survival rate – when the phone finally rang. "Hi there," she answered stealing Don's greeting.

"This is Lieutenant Schmidt over at the Duluth Police Department, am I speaking to Florence Nightgarden?"

She hadn't realized the phone call Lorne needed from her was a police matter, and she so greatly wanted to smack him for not warning her. "Oh you betcha," she answered.

The Lieutenant and Bill Oswalt looked at the picture of a forty year old woman with short brown hair, finding her on the church's website and seeing she worked in the office. "Alright ma'am, we have a few questions about your minister Frank Peterson if you don't mind."

"Geeze, is Frank in trouble for something?" she asked propping her legs up on the table and leaning back in her chair.

The two men looked at each other. "That's what we're trying to find out, ma'am," the Lieutenant told her. "How long has he been a minister in your church?"

She almost sighed realizing she was gonna have to make something up, Lorne hadn't prepared her for this in any way – which she thought was quite presumptuous of him to assume she could lie as easily as him. "Oh about a few years now," she answered. "We all love Frank, he's a peach don't you know it."

The Lieutenant ran a hand over his brow afraid she'd say something like that. "I'm sure he is, Ms. Nightgarden."  
"You know, my sister had her qualms about him when he first came to the church due to favoring our old minister, but Frank won her over right quick, I tell ya."

With a sigh Ben Schmidt's shoulders slumped, seeing a very big mistake had been made.

"Alright ma'am, one more question and I'll let you go back to your day: can you confirm Mr. Peterson whereabouts on Tuesday night?"

Olivia hesitated knowing she was supposed to give a certain answer to this question, but Lorne hadn't told her; and then she remembered his strange word of goodbye before he'd hopped out of her car – bingo. "He was at bingo like he always is," she answered hearing the officer sigh unhappily and she let out a silent breath of relief.

"Thank you for answering our questions, Ms. Nightgarden, sorry for taking your time," he told her.

"It was no trouble at all Lieutenant," she told him. "You have a great day," she said not knowing exactly who she was supposed to be, but if she had a guess she was supposed to work at the church.

"You too ma'am," he told her before hanging up and dropping his head in his hand.

Oswalt stood behind him just as displeased. "Should we call the alderman?" he asked.

The Lieutenant shook his head before grabbing the phone and putting in the number he found on the website; already knowing how this conversation would go.

Olivia sat back in her chair quite pleased at how well that had gone, now left looking at the useless books waiting for Lorne to call. She'd moved to the computer and was reading about a man who'd contracted meningoencephalitis and had been successfully treated with heroic doses of Amphotericin B – a Hail Mary if there ever was one. But his illness had been caught early, her patient was already in the final stages barely aware of what was going on around him due to his severe hallucinations – and she wouldn't get the test's results until tomorrow. She'd sat at the computer for an hour before her phone rang again, though it wasn't Lorne's number that came up. "Hello?"

"Hi it's me again."

She smiled amused at the sound of his high voice. "Hi Don," she greeted.

He smiled at her remembering his name. "I gotta question for ya, are you Frank's lady?"

She'd looked up from the computer surprised at that, and heard Lorne mutter, "give me that," before he held the phone to his ear and sighed irritably. "How long are you keeping him around for?" she asked knowing he was hating working with Don, and if he didn't need him the man would've been dead already.

"I haven't decided," he answered sourly.

She smiled sitting back, hearing the incredibly loud chirping in the background and honestly not wanting to know what he was doing. "You know, you should give some warning before you throw me into the middle of things, I could've ruined your entire story," she told him honestly, and she seriously could have. One wrong word from her and she might have made everything crumble, which would have left Lorne in jail.

"I'm out so I'd say you did pretty well," he said unconcerned, enjoying putting her in the position of being someone else and seeing how well she played the part.

She rolled her eyes at how reckless a decision that had been. "Don't you have people better equipped for this kind of thing?"

"I already told you," he said looking out the window as they drove, "I don't want anyone else." He could easily picture the smile that spread on her mouth, one she couldn't wipe off her face even if she tried. At the feeling of eyes on him he turned to see Don's goofy grin, though it quickly melted off his face as he turned to look at the road once more.

She ran her tongue over her teeth as she tried to stop smiling, hating when he said things like that over the phone; if he'd been near she would've kissed him, and if they'd been alone she would have done a lot more than kiss him. "I'd say you still owe me," she told him.

"And what do I owe you?" he asked wondering what it be this time, this wasn't the first time he'd used her to help him, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

She thought about it a moment before answering. "I haven't decided, but it'll probably end with us naked."

If he'd been alone he may have smiled for a brief moment, but as it were he sat stoically in the passenger's seat of the van. "I look forward to repaying you then."

She smiled gently knowing he was only calling to let her know he'd gotten out. "You should probably go, do whatever you're planning with all those crickets."

"Would you like me to call later?" he asked knowing the question would surprise her.

And she was surprised, pleasantly; it was his way of saying thank you, cause lord knows he'd never actually say those two words. "I'm working until seven tomorrow morning, if you catch me before I go to sleep."

"Oh, tell Florence I say bye."

Lorne looked over at Don with hard eyes before sighing. "Don says goodbye," he ground out before turning to look back out of the window hearing her laugh. "And I'll call you then."

"Okay, be nice to him," she said, "before you kill him."

He cast a look at Don beside him. "I make no guarantees," he told her.

She smiled hearing the weariness in his voice of the man. "Alright, have fun with your crickets I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

Don looked over at Frank grinning. "She seems real nice," he said meeting Lorne's blank look with a smile.

Lorne reached into pocked and pulled out his wallet, unfolding the photograph he kept of her and showing Don – there wasn't a single person besides Liv he'd shown it to that was still alive, and the man beside him was completely unaware as he looked at the woman in the photo.

"Aw, she's a real looker," Don said before looking back to the road. "Wonder how you got her."

Lorne gave him a sharp look. "My good looks and winning personality," he said before folding the photograph back into his wallet.

"Well you know," Don started.

"Just drive to the store."

"Right," Don said quietly, looking away from the man beside him as he continued on.

…

_Later that night_

"Lester," Numbers said turning the man's face to him, "I need a location."

"Look, he took my car," Lester stuttered, swallowing the rising vomit in his throat. "They called me told me it was impounded in Duluth, so he's probably," he shrugged not wanting to say he was in Duluth – if Lorne wasn't then these guys would come back, and if he was and somehow survived then he'd come back; either way Lester was out of luck. He stumbled over his own tongue as he told them there was a picture of Lorne Malvo in the station, hoping to be done with them so he could throw up or pass out, whichever came first. "What?" he asked when the man forced him to turn, having nothing else to say.

"Where in Duluth?"

"I don't," Lester said shaking his head, which he regretted the moment he did as the room began to spin. "I don't know." Numbers reached for his hand again and Lester pulled away wanting to scream. "There's a woman," he said before he could stop himself; he didn't want to tell them about her, he didn't care if Malvo was hurt but he cared for her not to be.

Numbers looked at him closely, lifting a hand to tell Wrench what he'd said. "A woman Lorne Malvo cares about? What's her name, is she in Duluth too?"

Lester shook his head, his eyes shut tight wishing he'd never spoken a word about her. "She's in the hospital here, Dr. An," he broke off before he could say her name, his mouth fighting with him not to give her away. But the man next to him hit his face again and asked once more for her name. "Anderson," he finally finished, the bile in his throat rising at the thought of her death being his fault. "She's real nice, she doesn't deserve to be hurt she's a good lady."

"Okay," Numbers said hoping to get more about her out of him. "Is this Dr Anderson a woman Malvo cares about?" he asked waiting as Lester hesitated before nodding. "How so, I need proof he'd want her alive?"

He fought with himself not to answer, knowing he was signing her death sentence by admitting how he knew Malvo very much wanted her alive; if his hand wasn't hurting him, if his head wasn't so foggy he wanted to believe he wouldn't tell them. "I saw him ki," he sighed shaking his head, but Numbers jerked his chin back to face him. "He kissed her," he ground out.

Numbers turned to Wrench immediately and signed what Lester said, and Wrench's brows rose in surprise at who this woman was to their guy. Once more Numbers turned to Lester to look at him, needing to be sure. "Dr. Anderson," he said waiting for him to nod, "Lorne Malvo?"

Lester nodded. "He killed him, he killed Hess. But not her, I don't think she," he stumbled over trying to tell them about her, hearing a door opening and an officer coming around the corner. "Go see her at the hospital, see for yourself she's good, she's good, she's good," he said hoping they wouldn't hurt her, hoping they'd kill Malvo and she'd live – because if the opposite happened and she died while Malvo lived, Lester thought dying now would be less painful than what Malvo would do to him.

* * *

**_I realized something while writing this chapter that I don't think I ever explained; I am breaking into the middle of scenes in the show and adding my OC to them, and then leaving the scene where it would continue on as it does in the show. Which I realize causes a lot of random beginnings, as well as cutting the scene short - which I do because she's not really relevant before or after those points. However, I'm not sure how to write it so it's seemless in this story - so I apologize for that, it's something I still need a bit of work on. _**

**_So this was all of episode four and the beginning of episode five. So stuff will be happening in the next two chapters, and I'm very thrilled to finally be there - however, I don't want to completely catch up with the show yet so I'll be spacing my updates further throughout the week; maybe every other day, or every two days. One last thing, remember that hair Molly saw three chapters ago - that might come up again next chapter, just as a little refresher._**


	9. and I've seen the battle

**_ziggystardust1994: thanks, I'm glad you liked it: I had a lot of fun with her pretending to be Florence Nightgarden because she really would do anything for him; which is why he keeps bringing her into his world. I can't wait to get more into Wrench and Numbers, which I do a little bit in this chapter. _**

**_Bob O: I know, I just loved seeing the stark contrast between Don and Lorne, their interactions were hilarious. And thank you, I'm really glad you liked the chapter. I'm also happy to hear that you understand why I'm cutting out the parts she doesn't have a place in because you're right, it would take the "spotlight" off of her and then put it on a character we already know about._**

* * *

Olivia left the lounge where she'd fallen asleep on the couch for her break, and she would've slept longer if her pager hadn't beeped calling her back to the E.R. to continue working. "He's in the third room down the hall, his vitals have all been taken," the nurse said handing her the chart.

She opened it to see why he'd come in, seeing other than a cut on his jaw he was in perfect health. "Evening Mr. Numbers, how are you?" she asked stepping into the room to find a man with very coiffed hair sitting on the table.

"Pretty well all things considered," he said motioning to the rag he was holding to his jaw.

She smiled sympathetically before grabbing a pair of gloves. "Would you like something for the pain or is it manageable?" she asked before stepping closer to inspect the wound; seeing the blood on the rag and in his beard which did little more than hide the laceration.

He looked closely at her badge as she leaned over him, seeing first the picture of her and then her name. "I can manage it, Dr. Anderson," he told her. "If it's not too intrusive, can I ask where you're from?"

She gave him a soft smile before cleaning the blood from his beard. "Maryland," she answered. "You're not from here either, I have to say yours is by far the easiest name I've pronounced in several days."

He laughed softly. "I bet," he told her. "What brings you out here, if you don't mind my asking?" he asked feeling her gently dabbing around where Wrench had cut him.

"I came for a patient," she said before tossing out the damp cloth and grabbing another to finish cleaning under his chin.

"Far way to come for a patient," he said wondering if she was as kind as she seemed; it certainly didn't make sense for her to have any ties with the guy they were looking for.

She nodded knowing it was, even for her own chief it had been quite the stretch. "He's a very sick little boy. Now you have to tell me why you're out here."

He turned to her with raised brows. "Oh do I?"

She smiled. "That's how it works; I told you why I'm here, now it's your turn."

He was surprised to find himself smiling along with her, not liking how amiable she was. "I'm visiting a friend," he explained.

She looked up from his jaw. "He's not the one that hit you, is he?"

He shook his head laughing. "No, that was another guy."

She finished cleaning off the blood and finally found the source of the bleeding. "On a positive note the guy that hit you didn't leave you needing stitches, only an icepack and some ibuprofen," she told him as she searched through the drawers in the cabinet. "Though it is still relatively deep, so to spare you another round of bleeding I'll put a layer of surgical glue on it," she told him before returning with the tube of Dermabond.

"Will I have to come back to get it taken off?"

"No, it should start flaking off in about a week or two," she assured him. "And if you're up for it I could take the time to keep it off your beard, but moving the hair out of the way might cause you some discomfort around the laceration."

For a good ten minutes she stood beside him, a hand pulling the hair out of the way and the other applying the glue. "You can't even tell it's there," she said when she'd finished and expected it.

He stared hard at her back as she filled out the rest of his chart; he'd killed a number of people and none of them were remotely nice, not even the guys that hired them. Though the moment she turned back to him he smiled pleasantly, not wanting to raise any flags at that particular moment in time.

"Alright Mr. Numbers, if you take this back to the front desk the woman there can get you ready to go," she told him before motioning him to follow. "Don't get into anymore fights, but it was nice meeting you," she told him before grabbing a new chart.

…

Numbers walked to where Wrench stood, his eyes finally leaving the doctor. "Did you meet her?" Wrench signed.

"Worse," Numbers told him, "I liked her."

Wrench looked to the woman surprised, Numbers having been very clear he was ready to finish this assignment and leave. "Does she know Malvo?"

He shrugged. "We'll find out when you're in there."

…

"Dr. Anderson."

"Dr. Bakus," she greeted in returned. She was stopped from saying anymore by the sound of her phone ringing. "I'm waiting for test results to get back, would you mind taking this one please?" she asked, handing him the chart when he'd agreed, and stepping away from the desk to answer. "Dr. Anderson speaking."

"Oh um, this is Deputy Solverson with the Bemidji Police Department," Molly said confused and now suspicious – Gus had taken the number directly from the directory of the church 'Frank Peterson' was supposedly a minister at.

She paused at the sound of the woman's voice, expecting someone she just said she wasn't. "You must be looking for Ms. Nightgarden, I'm afraid she'll probably be out for the night."

"Might I ask why that is?" Molly asked not liking that someone else had answer the phone; already entirely suspicious of anyone with ties to Frank Peterson.

Olivia ran a hand over her hair as she quickly found a lie that worked. "She just got out of surgery, she probably won't wake for several hours."

Molly nodded as she jotted down what the woman was saying, underlining the name Anderson and making a note to look into her. "And can I ask why you're in possession of her phone?"

"She insisted that I carry it in case anymore officers call about her minister. Has he been released yet, I found it odd he hasn't visited?"

Molly looked up from the quick notes she was taking. "What do you mean?"

Olivia smiled softly knowing she now had the deputy in the palm of her hand. "I've had quite a few patients who are part of religious gatherings, I'm not sure if I remember a time the leader didn't visit at least once. I just thought it was a little strange is all."

Molly put away her notepad finding that she believed the doctor, who was also seeing the strangeness of this man. "It is quite strange," she agreed. "If I give you my number would you call if he does stop by?" she asked, planning to ask the doctor to describe the man and see if it matched the description of Lorne Malvo.

"Of course, just let me," she said searching for her pen and a piece of paper, "alright I'm ready." She copied down the number the deputy gave, dotting her i's and crossing her t's – playing the part of a completely innocent doctor who had no idea what was going on.

"Thanks for your time," Molly told her hoping Frank would show up, hoping they could catch that the guy they arrested wasn't who he said he was.

Olivia said her goodbyes before hanging up and breathing a sigh of relief at how easy that had been, having almost panicked when she'd first heard it was another deputy. She looked up at the surgical board, which she'd stopped beside, and caught sight of a familiar name. "What is he doing here again?" she asked herself before checking the layout of the beds and finding the room he'd been stationed in. "I'm just here to check on Mr. Nygaard," she told the officer outside his room, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach at why he was there. Closing the door behind her she stepped toward the bed seeing he was turned on his side. "Mr. Nygaard," she said softly as she sat beside him. He turned to her confused and wide eyed, unable to believe he was seeing her. "Your hand finally do you in?"

He smiled in spite of himself, remembering how gentle she was, and he was reminded again of what a terrible thing he'd done telling those two men about her. "I'm so sorry," he said softly.

"Mr. Nygaard?" She watched surprised and concerned as he broke into tears, repeating over and over again how sorry he was; and she could do little more than sit with a hand on his shoulder as he cried wondering what he'd done. He had just started settling down when she heard her name over the intercom calling her back to the E.R, and she turned back to Lester with a small smile. "Would you like me to come back later?" she asked hoping then he might tell her what he was sorry for – it was worrying her, a nagging thought in the back of her mind that she should call Lorne and ask him what he wanted her to do because she could see from the look in Lester's eyes that he'd done something bad.

"Oh, y-yes please, please come back later," he begged, knowing if she did then everything was fine and she wasn't hurt.

She smiled as best she could before patting his arm and standing, her smile slipping away as worry took its place. The moment she left his room she reached for her phone to call Lorne, knowing he'd tell her to stop worrying – or he might tell her to go back to the hotel and wait for him because something was wrong. She didn't know what he'd say, all she knew was she wanted to hear his voice.

"Oh geeze, I'm sorry."

Olivia let go of the phone in her pocket and looked at who she'd run into, her voice sounding familiar. "It was probably my fault, I wasn't paying attention," she said seeing on her name plate she was the deputy she'd just spoken to. "We just talked on the phone," she said giving the deputy a friendly smile, once more playing her part.

"Dr. Anderson, how funny to see you," Molly said, her suspicions now blaring at hearing even clearer the lack of accent she didn't have, and at the sight of her long blonde hair – recalling the strand of hair that had escaped on the wind from the crashed car with the naked fella. "Were you checking in on Lester Nygaard?" she asked not liking that she also knew Lester – which meant the car that Lorne Malvo had crashed may have had this woman in it as well.

Olivia looked over her shoulder at the officer sitting outside Lester's room, his head now up from the paper he'd been reading and listening to the two women. "Yes I was seeing that he was settling in well after surgery, he had a close call with his hand," she explained.

"Oh yeah?" Molly asked nodding. "That's what his doctor said. Were you there for his surgery?" she asked not understanding why she would be – one surgeon would've been more than enough to drain a hand of puss and to give him medicine.

But Olivia nodded offering a meek smile. "I'm at the end of my residency, as close as I am to being an attending I'm not quite there yet; so I have to have one in the O.R. with me."

"Oh," Molly said realizing that made sense, and she'd seen enough doctor shows to know that was true. "Can I ask what brought you out here?" she asked seeing the doctor's confusion. "We have an ongoing investigation with the suspect being someone from out of town, and you're from out of town," she added with an awkward smile, "so I kind of have ask, not that I think you had to anything to do with it. It's just, it's part of the job," she finished with a shrug.

Olivia nodded as though she understood. "Yeah of course. I had a patient in Maryland and we couldn't figure out what was going on, since his family was only visiting we sent them home. But the mother asked if I could come out and continue trying to find the cause of his illness, and I get it," Olivia told her easily, much more comfortable now that she was being honest. "I mean you're moved doctor to doctor depending on what you have and you have different nurses and so none of the faces are the same; both parents and children tend to get attached to one person and it's always hard to take that security blanket away cause they're already so worried and afraid. And to be honest, he's a beautiful little boy, and _I_ got attached. So, now I'm now here."

Molly nodded surprised at the amount of compassion in all she'd said; wondering if it was even possible that she knew Malvo. "Well if I ever get sick I hope you're my doctor," she said sharing a short laugh with the other woman. "Are you closer to finding out what he has?" she asked.

Olivia might have been pleased at knowing she once more had the deputy's suspicions put to rest, but the look on her face faltered and she shook her head. "I'm 95% sure I know what he has, but since it's rare we have to wait for the test results to come back before we tell the mother; and then we get to tell her that the monster of a medical bill we wracked up with all the tests has been," she broke off shaking her head feeling her eyes burning, "it's all been for nothing because he was gonna die the moment he got it."

Molly looked at the doctor sadly, seeing she was taking this little's boy dying hard; though Olivia hadn't planned it, she was only giving Molly more proof she was innocent. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded trying to shake it off. "You know, he's supposed to be turning seven next week," she said quietly, "now he's gonna be laying in the morgue." She held a hand over her mouth as she took a breath, pushing her tears down until she could breathe calmly. "I'm sorry," she said trying to excuse herself, usually reigning in her emotions while she was at work – she only let herself cry at home or in the locker room.

"No," Molly said shaking her head, seeing there was no way this woman was connected to Lorne Malvo; a woman who got attached to a patient and came with them halfway across the country, and now stood heartbroken over the thought of losing them, would end up being the victim not an accomplice. Beside there being no other evidence than a lost strand of hair tying her to the car that may or may not have had her in it; and Lorne Malvo had been a busy man, but there was no other proof that he might know her. Molly wondered if their being here around the same time was actually just a coincidence, which was ironic because she didn't very much like coincidences.

"Dr. Anderson to the E.R."

Olivia looked up at the sound of her name over the intercom again. "I have to go, were there any other questions you wanted to ask?"

Molly shook her head giving a quaint smile. "No, that was it. It was like I said, I didn't really think you were involved."

She nodded before walking down the hall back to the E.R. with her emotions in check and a tired smile ready for the next person she would see. She took the chart to the room she was directed to finding a broad-shouldered man with impressive sideburns sitting on the table. "Hello Mr. Wrench," she said pausing at his last name. "How did you hurt your hand?" She looked up from his chart when he didn't answer and saw him looking behind her. "Mr. Numbers," she said at seeing the familiar man, catching sight of his hand movements and realizing the man on the table was deaf. "Can you read lips?" she asked when she was sure Mr. Wrench was looking at her. She smiled when he nodded and motioned for the other man to come in the room. "So, what'd he do to make you punch him?" she asked seeing the man's mouth twitch as though to smile.

"How do you know I did something?" Numbers asked from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder at him smiling before turning so Mr. Wrench could still see her mouth. "He's deaf, you're obviously at fault," she said before grabbing a pair of gloves and sitting on a stool and taking his hand to inspect it.

Numbers gave Wrench a look, seeing he was smiling, and shook his head; she was too likeable, it'd make their job difficult.

She looked up at the man sitting on the table and waited for him to look down at her before speaking. "You guys aren't planning to fight again are you?" She waited patiently as he signed to the man behind her, and then waited still looking at Mr. Wrench as Mr. Numbers translated.

"He said it's rare a person who isn't deaf knows how to speak to someone who is."

She half turned to Mr. Numbers confused. "What do you mean?"

He motioned to her. "Well like that, you're talking to me but you're making sure he can still read your lips. And you look at him when he signs, and then keep looking at him when I translate."

"I hadn't thought about that," she said not realizing she'd even done it until he'd told her.

She didn't see Numbers behind her shaking his head unhappily as he looked down at the counter he was leaning on.

"The good news," she said looking up at Mr. Wrench, "is I looked at your x-ray and there's nothing broken. The unfortunate news is you need surgical glue as well," she said before standing and going to the cabinet.

"What glue?" Wrench signed and nodded when Numbers signed surgical, having not read that word clearly from her mouth.

She returned to the stool taking his hand again as she began applying the glue, not hearing the man moving silently behind her as he opened drawers and cabinets – not knowing they had come specifically for her.

"You know a friend told us to request you," Numbers said from behind her, his hand reaching for a needle, "said you were a great doctor."

She smiled briefly as she held the lacerated skin together – finding it strange no bruise had formed on either Number's cheek or Wrench's hand, and they were both clean cuts as well. "And who was that?"

He nodded to Wrench to watch her face closely before he answered. "Lester Nygaard." Wrench saw her eyes move from his hand, could feel that she was unconsciously holding her breath as that information settled; he looked up at Numbers and nodded. With a sigh Numbers stepped forward silently. "You know, I could hardly believe when he said there was a woman attached to Lorne Malvo."

He caught her around the waist as she lunged for the door, his hand clamping over her mouth as he stabbed the needle in her neck. "Shh, shh, it's okay," he said softly, his hand tightening around her mouth as she struggled, his other arm coming around her to press her against his chest as she began to sag. "We're not gonna hurt you," he said in her ear, feeling her grow heavier as her struggles weakened, "you're just the bait."

Wrench sat staring at her terrified eyes pleading silently with him as she sank lower in Numbers' arms, her eyes beginning to flutter rapidly as the sedative began taking effect; he wasn't any happier about this than Numbers, knowing they'd take her back to Fargo to be questioned on what all she knew, and then she'd be killed.

Numbers held her as her head fell forward and her eyes shut losing consciousness. "I got her," he said shaking his head when Wrench stepped forward to carry her, but Numbers lifted her in his arms and jerked his head so Wrench would see if they were clear to leave. And after a few moments he followed Wrench out the door and down the hall toward the back exit where their car was parked, laying her in the backseat before they headed for Duluth.

* * *

**_I thought I should probably explain how I depicted Wrench and Numbers - in my opinion I don't think they're necessarily bad people, I won't say they're good but I don't think they're the "bad guys". I think they're just doing their job and hunting Malvo - other than that one guy they mistook for him they haven't hurt anyone else, minus Lester but he's very suspicious and he knew something. Also with the way I made Olivia, she's what a doctor is supposed to be when they're seeing patients; she's nice and personable and tries to make her patients comfortable. So it doesn't make sense for her to be attached to Lorne Malvo, so it kind of caught them off guard. And when you're job is to kill people, who probably deserve it, I don't think they would be fine taking someone who was very kind and pleasant; so they kind of regret that she's gonna have to die. Anyways, sorry for the long spiel, I just wanted to explain what I did in case there's anyone who doesn't agree with my opinion on them possibly being, relatively speaking, 'okay' guys, and that way everyone can see what I'm going for in my portrayal of them._**

**_Also, this is basically the end of the fifth episode._**


	10. and I've seen the war

**_So I thought I should explain what I did while Olivia was sedated; though a bit uncommon you can dream while under sedation so I'm having her dream various memories from her past. Except in the way dreams go things don't always make sense to her, which makes for kind of confusing writing; the italics are strictly the memories and the normal font are her thoughts as she's seeing it - also, she's literally reliving her memories, so she'll say or do what she had then but consciously she's like wait I don't want to say this what am I doing what's going on. I actually had some fun with this chapter cause I'm finally getting to who Olivia is deep down as well showing the progression of her and Lorne's "relationship."_**

**_ziggystartdust1994: I'm so glad you liked how I did Numbers and Wrench cause I was worried I might be alone in my view of them; I'm actually hoping to bring Wrench back at some point, and I'm so hoping the show won't ruin my plan to do that. And with Lorne finding out Liv's gone, I actually might not show that until after things happen - because it does have a major effect on him to know that she was so easily taken and he was still relatively close; and of course the fact that she had been worried of something happening and he'd brushed her off, and then it happened. So I might wait on showing his response._**

* * *

It was cold. That was the first thing Olivia noticed when she opened her eyes, everything was cold. She couldn't remember what happened or where she was, laying in this dark cloudy place with her head feeling strange and light: unconnected. "Lorne," she said when she saw him, and she clambered to her feet before running to him knowing she needed him, knowing something was wrong.

"_Dr. Anderson," he said turning to her with only the barest hint of a smile. _

He was different or at least his eyes were, there was curiosity and intention lying in their depths – it was a look she hadn't seen in a while.

"_It's been two months Lorne Malvo," she answered._

That wasn't what she wanted to say, she wanted to tell him something was wrong, she wanted to say she needed him because she was so cold. She looked down at herself to find she was in blue scrubs that she'd worn at her hospital, not the brown ones she knew she'd been wearing in Bemidji – everything was wrong.

"_Would you still like dinner?" he asked her, smiling at her remembering his name, knowing she'd go simply out of curiosity. _

_She felt herself laugh in disbelief. "You really came back just to take me out?" she asked looking up at him. "How could I say no then?" _

She should say no, she should've run away from him the moment he came back to get his sutures removed – his eyes had been so dark, so cold with danger. She should've said no to ever seeing him again. She might still be her, still be someone that didn't make herself okay with murder, that wasn't so used to it that it barely touched her. She might still be whole. But looking at his face, made soft by his aim to win her over, she didn't know who she was without him – she didn't know how to be _her_ without him.

Olivia looked around herself startled, having only blinked for a second and she was now sitting in a booth with Lorne across from her; only this wasn't the first time he had taken her to dinner, she'd still been in her scrubs because she had to go back to the hospital. Looking down at herself and seeing her jeans, she wondered if this was the second time he'd taken her out or maybe even the third; she didn't understand any of it, she didn't know where she was.

"_Why do you let your boss talk to you like that?" he asked her gently, feigning a person who cared. _

_She shrugged taking a large gulp of her beer. "It's necessary," she said wanting to forget the whole night. _

_But he placed his hand on hers and looked at her kindly. "Necessary to say you wouldn't make it far in your medical career?"_

He was really laying it on thick, and she hadn't realized it then but she knew exactly what he was doing now as she sat looking at him – seeing every lie on his face that she'd missed four years ago. He was trying to play her, to expose the wrongness of the world and send her out to cause destruction; it's what he'd done to Lester Nygaard and many others before, and it's what he was trying to do to her. But she'd nodded.

"_I got lucky today," she said looking up at him to see the wondering in his eyes as he waited for her to continue. "I made a mistake, in my line of work that means the patient dies – I got very lucky. So yeah, it hurts like hell when he says that but," she shrugged as she thought of how to explain it, "if he doesn't remind me that I don't know everything then I'm never gonna learn. It is necessary," she finished looking down at her glass of beer. _

"_Even though it hurts?" he asked staring hard at her face, seeing the woman he'd had no idea she was. _

_She shrugged again. "Yeah well, so does life." _

_His brows rose surprised by the simple honesty in that statement. "You're not who I thought you were, Olivia Anderson," he told her._

_She looked up at him to see him gazing hard at her face. "Who did you think I was?"_

"_I thought you were a woman who saw good in life, I thought you were happy," he said searching for something in her eyes. _

"_You can't be happy all the time," she told him in defense. "It's not sane. It's crap." _

_He laughed amused, now seeing the person she was, which she covered with a smile. "You had me fooled with your smile when I was your patient, you fool everyone – you put them at ease, make them feel comfortable – I think you've fooled yourself. You're not happy," he said seeing the surprise in her eyes at his being able to see through her. "There's a sadness in you," he told her reaching up to brush the hair out of her face to better see her eyes, "and darkness." _

Olivia stared at his captivated face as though he'd found a treasure in her, understanding then why he had taken an interest in her. He'd come back with the intention of coaxing the animal out of her, like he so enjoyed doing to others, only to find the animal in her hiding as she licked her wounds. How strange she must have been to him, a broken woman trying to be the good she never saw in the world.

"_This is the point when most men run away," she said softly almost expecting it; she'd never been the kind of girl guys went for – because he was right, she wasn't happy. But he only smiled at her, keeping his hand on her cheek as he shook his head and opened his mouth to speak._

She looked around noticing a strange light to the fogginess around her, and she reached for Lorne. "No," she said trying to hold him there, "I don't wanna go." But he slipped away from her and she shielded her eyes from the awful brightness, feeling a sharp pinch in her arm before everything turned black once more.

* * *

Numbers leaned over the armrest and tightened his hand around her wrist until her vein popped out, then gave her another dose of the sedative he'd taken from the hospital. He didn't sit back until her creased brow smoothed and her head fell to the side, satisfied she wouldn't wake. If their guy really did care about her she'd make good bait, they'd find him show him they had her get him talking – everything would be easier with her knocked out, she had no chance of escaping or fighting back, and she looked so vulnerable. And if it turned out he didn't care then they could drop her somewhere and leave taking Lorne Malvo with them.

Wrench looked over at Numbers when he took his phone out and answered it. He turned to look back out the window at the house Lorne Malvo had stopped at, waiting for when he would come back out and leave so they could follow – it'd be easier to grab him when no one was around, with no one as a loose end. "What'd he say?" he signed when Numbers put the phone back in his pocket.

He looked at the woman in the back and sighed shaking his head. "Boss wants him dead," Numbers told him.

Wrench too turned to look at the woman. "Did you tell him about her, do we take her back to Fargo?"

Numbers had contemplated saying they had someone Malvo might be attached to, someone who might have information about him, and to ask what they should do with her – which there was only one answer: kill her too. This information would have served better last night before they grabbed her, now they were left with bait they didn't need because they'd just get Malvo as he was driving. "It didn't come up," he signed.

Wrench looked at the man beside him questioningly before looking back to the woman. "We could ask what she knows, if she knows anything, decide then," Wrench offered, knowing as well they'd be told to kill her.

Numbers shrugged looking out the window, not wanting to think about it. He raised a hand and shook his head when Wrench hit his arm to get his attention, not wanting to talk about her anymore.

Wrench released a breath before looking back to her wondering if they could actually let her go, but he knew that chance was slim and he sighed before reaching back and pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

* * *

Olivia woke once more to the cold, feeling something across her shoulders weighing her down as she looked around to see where she was. Across from her was Lorne, a cup of coffee in his hand as he looked at her, a medical book on the table in front of her beside her own coffee – she knew where they were, a little coffee shop down the street from the hospital they often met at. There were people around them sitting just like they were, but she couldn't see them – she couldn't see anything past their table, it was all so dark.

"_Tell me about yourself," she said suddenly, having been hesitating to ask until finally it burst out of her. _

_His brows rose as he continued looking at her. "There isn't much to tell," he lied knowing she would run from the man he was. _

_She leaned forward not believing him for a second. "You've lived half a century and I know nothing about you," she told him. He knew quite a lot about her; what she was like as a teenager, her dabbling in drugs, her medical school debt she was slowly repaying, that it'd been just her and her mom – he knew more about her than even her closest friends, and she couldn't remember why she'd told him other than he'd asked. _

_With a sigh he nodded, already knowing her enough that he knew she wouldn't give in – not until she got what she wanted, and she wanted this. "I'm afraid I can't tell you about my job," he informed her watching the intrigue ignite in her eyes. _

"_Good or bad?" she asked, though if she were honest she already knew the answer – and he knew she was aware of it too. "What do you like to do when you're not working?" _

_The corner of his mouth curled as he sat staring at her face, seeing then she was already wrapped around his finger. _

And she was, after only a few months she'd already been used to him being there – surprising her at work to take her to dinner, calling her and telling her to meet him somewhere, calling just to talk. She missed this Lorne, still wearing a false mask of charm and affection; he didn't try to win her over anymore, she was already his, all he did was give her enough to make her stay.

"_I study human behavior," he answered smirking. _

_Her brows furrowed at that wondering who exactly this man was that she'd let into her life. "You're a strange man, Lorne Malvo," she said resting her chin on her hand, seeing his amused smile. _

She watched him turn to smoke and she reached for him hoping to make him stay, but her hand grabbed nothing but cold as the scene changed; she was outside of the hospital going in for her shift, three weeks after that day in the coffee shop.

"_Olivia," she heard him call from behind her. _

_Oblivious to what was about to change between them she turned surprised by the sound of his voice, offering him a smile as she walked to where he stood. "Hey, how've you been?" she asked, not aware he was doing anything more than stopping by. _

_His eyes were hard and his face cold. "Tell me about your father." _

_She looked up at him startled and confused, the look on his face making her wary of him – she had never seen this face, he always hid it from her. "I'm gonna be late for work, we can talk later," she said not sure if she wanted there to be a later, she didn't like the way he was looking at her. _

Don't she thought as she stepped away from him, knowing how this played out, he wasn't taking no for answer – and she'd see who he was, for the only time in the four years she'd know him she would be afraid of him.

"_Olivia," he warned grabbing her arm and pulling her back to face him, forcing her to look at him and see he had little patience to be refused. _

Tell him you stubborn girl, she thought to herself knowing she wouldn't listen.

_She looked up at him fiercely. "I told you it was my mom and I, I didn't say a single thing about that man which means I don't want to talk about. So hear me loud and clear, I'm not talking about it," she said before jerking her arm out of his grasp and walking away._

_He didn't say her name, he didn't give her any warning until he once more grabbed her arm and pulled her against him, his hand coming up around her neck as his fingers dug into her jaw. "You have two options: tell me about your father or I take you to the men who'll make you," he told her darkly, tightening the hand around her jaw. _

_His dark eyes made it very clear she would answer one way or another, and she stared up at him afraid and furious. "There's nothing to say," she told him. Without missing a beat he began pulling her after him toward his car leaving her trying to keep her feet. "He wasn't there," she cried finally, thankful when he stopped and turned waiting for more. "He," she sighed as she forced herself to remember what she'd tried to forget, "he'd come back every once in while drunk and broke. I didn't even know him as my father, he was just a man who came round and made her cry. He'd hit her and when she couldn't stop him he'd hit me too, and then he'd leave and it'd be good again, until he'd come back. And then he stopped coming back and I haven't seen him in fifteen years. That's it, that's all there is," she told him. His face didn't change, there was no compassion or understanding in his eye, but his hand loosened on her neck and she took a step away from him. "You know biology says that DNA makes someone your family, that's bullshit; I may have his blood but he is not my father." _

"Wait," she said as her feet moved her forward. She didn't want to leave him, she wanted to go back and tell him she knew what was coming and that everything would be okay if he'd just hold her; she was starting to remember a man with high hair and another man big and quiet. Everything was wrong and she just wanted him to hold her, but she couldn't keep her feet from leaving him.

* * *

**_The episode last night was so crazy I just couldn't even believe it; however, this will most likely be my last update til next week cause I'm not entirely sure where things are going in the show. Also, kind of a spoiler I guess, I read that last night's episode was Wrench's last one - does anyone know if that's actually true, because if it is then I can go ahead and keep going, but if it's not then I'll have to wait with the show. Thank you all for reading, I hope everyone is still enjoying._**


	11. the life out here

Lorne called Liv as he drove, knowing he'd wake her because it was after seven; he wasn't too concerned, she'd tiredly say hello and ask how his night had been before falling back asleep as he answered – he planned on her falling back asleep, listening to the police scanner as they gathered outside Don's house.

His thoughts were stolen from the scanner at the sound of her voicemail, not remembering a time she hadn't answered his call.

He called her hotel asking for her room and waited as it rang. "Sorry sir, no answer," the woman at the desk told him. "Would you like me to leave a message?"

"Could you go to her room and check on her?" he asked as patiently as he could.

"Sir, if she didn't answer odds are she's not there," the woman told him.

If she'd seen his face she would've paled at the sharp edge in his eye. "What if she was lying unconscious on the floor, had a heart attack or stopped breathing, what would you do if you found her dead because you refused to walk down there and open the door?" He listened as the woman sighed and told him to wait a minute, not liking that Liv hadn't answered either phone. He looked at his watch to see it was four hours after seven, there was no reason for her to still be at the hospital.

"She wasn't there, it's like I told ya she would've answered the phone if she had been. But I can still leave a message for you. Sir?"

But Lorne had hung up after hearing Liv wasn't in the room, calling the number he'd written down for the hospital. "Hi, I was looking for Dr. Anderson, I came in the other day and she told me to call her if anything else came up," he told the woman that answered.

"One moment please," she said before holding the phone against her chest. "Dr. Bakus, is Dr. Anderson still here?" he heard her muffled voice ask.

"Her shift ended hours ago."

"Yeah I didn't think she was but she didn't sign out." Lorne heard all of this as he drove, his hand tightening around the phone he held to his ear as he waited. "Sorry for the wait sir, we're paging her now," the woman said before holding the phone once more to her chest. "Maybe she forgot to sign out, might do things a bit different in Maryland?" she asked though Dr. Bakus could only shrug. "Last I saw her was close to midnight," was his only answer. "I'm pretty sure she went home."

"Sir, Dr. Anderson isn't in but I can see about answering your question. Sir?"

He tried her phone again knowing she wouldn't answer, yet trying it anyways on the chance she might; and he was surprised when he heard the sound of the call being picked up.

Numbers sat in the car driving behind him holding her phone to his ear – he'd taken it off her before he'd gotten in a different car, hoping Malvo would call. The first one he'd let pass and waited to see how long it took before he called again; a good seven minutes he'd waited, realizing Malvo had called around before trying her phone again. A shame they were just gonna kill him, she would've made good bait. He ended the call without a word, those few short seconds being all he needed to tell Malvo he had his girl.

* * *

_She sat on her bed with a book in hand and an empty glass in the other as she researched a treatment plan for their dying patient – her answer was supposed to be given tomorrow but she could find nothing that might help with the cancer or even prolong the patient's life by a few months. With a sigh she set the book down and carried her glass to the kitchen, hoping for even a few seconds of a break before she returned to the book to find there was nothing; taking the time to wash out the cup before reluctantly returning to her room. _

_She'd crossed the living room and back into the hall when she finally realized she felt someone else in her apartment – there was no other explanation for why she felt that other than the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she could literally _feel_ the other person's beating heart. A thought came to her, if she could just get into her room and lock the door she could either escape through the window – though a three story jump wasn't very inviting – or call for help as she found something to arm herself with. _

_Before she even had the chance to take a breath a hand was over her mouth and she was pulled further into the hall; "not a sound," she heard him breathe in her ear. She looked up shocked by the sound of Lorne's voice, wondering if he'd come back to make good on his threat of taking her to whoever wanted to know about her father. She hadn't seen him in two days, had been left stuck between never wanting to see him again and wanting him to just call – and something in her, something so broken and twisted, gave a silent sigh of relief at seeing him again._

_A shadow on the wall caught her attention and she turned to see someone creeping silently toward the hall, the shape of a gun clear making her heart flutter in fear. She gave no resistance as Lorne pulled her back into her room, his feet somehow avoiding every spot that creaked – as though he'd been in her apartment several times before. _

_She barely had time to blink after the man came around the corner before blood spattered on the wall behind him and he fell with a thump to the floor. It wasn't until the second man rushed forward with his gun drawn that she realized the horrid loud click had been from the gun in Lorne's hand, and she watched pieces of brain splatter onto a picture of her and her mother at her graduation. _

_He looked down at her seeing her wide eyes and her heaving chest as she stared at the two men lying dead on her floor; he took the hand from her mouth wondering if she'd scream as she turned to him._

* * *

Wrench pulled the rearview mirror down to look at the doctor lying across the backseat to see her brows knitted – the sedative was wearing off. Numbers had told him to give her another, but he wondered maybe if she might wake up and run off; and he wondered even more what it meant that he wanted her to. And so when they reached a long stretch of road Wrench left the syringe in the cup holder and instead turned the heat on full blast and grabbed his gun, waiting until Malvo was stopped by Numbers' car before climbing out already shooting.

* * *

_She looked up at Lorne barely able to make sense of any of it, her mind was numb with shock and she could feel her body shaking; and yet she wasn't afraid of him. "You're cleaning that up," she said, her voice barely above a whisper before she returned to her bed – taking the weight off her quivering legs as she tried to get control of her breathing, knowing what would happen if she let herself go into shock. _

_He stared after her surprised by the simplicity of that statement; he'd expected her to cry, she certainly looked like she wanted to. "Olivia," he said knowing from her pale face she was heading toward hysteric, and he wouldn't hesitate to shoot her if she made to scream. "Olivia." _

She blinked confused as a round of fireworks went off; she didn't remember there being any that night, they didn't even sound like fireworks – it was too loud.

_"I'm fine," she said shrugging offhandedly, her voice strangely high as she tried to read the words in her book. "There're black trash bags underneath the sink, next to the bleach," she told him. The air was thin as she forced herself to breathe deeper, forced her heart to calm before she began to hyperventilate – which she could feel she was very close to doing. _

_"Oliv-"_

_"I'm fine," she interrupted quickly, not giving him a chance to question the state of her mind; she was calm, she was fine. All she had to do was breathe. _

* * *

"Who?"

Lorne twisted the knife in the man's back until he cried out. "Fargo," he yelled. He cried through clenched teeth at the knife digging deeper into his back knowing what Malvo wanted. "She's in the car behind yours," he growled just wanting it to stop; his chest was on fire as he tried to breathe.

That was all he needed before he cut the man's throat and shoved him away from him, bending down to collect his gun and making his way back to the cars.

* * *

She knew what came next, this was a moment she would come back to continuously the more she was faced with the man he was. And even then, knowing him more than she knew herself at times and seeing everything he said and did was nothing more than a ruse to keep her wrapped around his finger, she didn't know if there was anything left in her that wanted this moment to change.

_He returned to the room when he'd wrapped the guys that had come for her, finding their bag with rope and duct tape by the door knowing they'd meant to take her with them back to their boss – who was technically his boss in this particular job. "Olivia?" She wasn't on the bed as she'd been when he'd left her, and he'd taken her phone with him on the chance she might call someone; he honestly didn't know what to expect from her, she was so strange and new. He found her standing at the sink washing her face as she made for bed, as though this were any other night where she would go to sleep and wake up the same – as though he wasn't there having killed two men in front of her. And he found himself wondering exactly what she would do if he pushed her. "Olivia?" _

_"Yeah," she said patting her face dry, her heart finally settled into a soft rhythm as her breathing evened. "I'm fine," she told him again when she saw the look on his face. _

_His brows rose as he stepped further in the room, waiting for her body to tense yet she seemed to be calm. "I shot two men, they're laying in your living room." _

_She turned to him exasperated. "And I have to tell my attending that I've found nothing for this patient's cancer, except to let him die. What's your point?" she asked not seeing why he was bringing it up, she'd be much happier if he got rid of them and never spoke of it again. _

_"My point is," he said moving to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at him, "you're not fine." _

_She held a hand up to keep him from touching her, knowing she'd cave into his touch and cry. "Of course I'm fine, I see death all the time." _

_"You're not fine," he repeated seeing how close she was breaking, and he stepped even closer. _

_She stood corned between him and the counter, her eyes wide – she was literally a deer in headlights, and she knew she was. "What do you want me to say?" she exclaimed hearing how shrill her voice was. _

_He stared down at her knowing this was it. "You are not fine." _

_"I'm not fine," she yelled. "Okay? I'm not fine. I'm not fine." She stared up at him nearly heaving as she felt her flimsy wall break and the flood of tears breach her eyes. "Don't," she whimpered feeling his arms wind around her pulling her to his chest; but the feel of his hands on her back and the nearness of him left her clinging to him as her body shook. _

_She only cried for a few moments, her hands flat on his chest as she breathed against him – she'd never had him this close before, the closest he came was a hand on her face. She stood wanting to flee; from him, from the two dead men, from the terrible thoughts she was thinking like how warm he was as she stood pressed against his chest or how gently he'd held her as he killed them right in front her. Those things made no sense, she should be afraid of him, she should hate him, she most certainly shouldn't be attracted to him in any way.  
_Oh but she was, Olivia thought, she was so very much attracted to him. She burned and she ached and she craved – _this_ was her animal. _And as she often did, she took him completely by surprise when she pulled his mouth to hers; giving in to the need she had for him, giving in to the desire he'd injected in her veins with every passing look and every simple touch_.

She wouldn't dare change this moment; it didn't matter that she was ruined, that she couldn't be a person without him, it didn't matter he was a murderer. All that mattered was this – it was the first honest time he would ever hold her. He didn't need anything from her, he didn't need to console her into bending to his will; all he wanted, in that moment alone, was her.

* * *

Lorne left behind the hitmen and the cops and found his way back to the cars, grabbing his case from the car he'd taken before trudging to the one behind him, squinting against the chilled wind and the swirling snow to see the driver's door open.

If not for the syringe on the floor by her arm she would've looked like she was asleep, her head fallen to the side and her hand hanging limp off the seat – other than her knitted brows she looked as she did any night. They shouldn't have found her, which meant someone told them she was connected to him; they'd gotten too close.

* * *

_He didn't waste much time with surprise at the feel of her mouth on his before her back was against the wall and her pants were in a pile at their feet; he didn't bother doing anything more than unbuttoning his own, feeling her soft gasp against his mouth and he smiled._

"Liv," she heard him say from far away and she opened her eyes to look up at him, feeling his arm around her back and his hand on her cheek. She didn't understand, he wouldn't call her Liv for another month or so, and they'd been standing against the wall only moments before. She couldn't remember a time when he'd held her like this, when his face had been so hard with anger and concern.

* * *

"Liv," he said again needing her to wake up and seeing from her fluttering lashes she was close. He waited until she could hold her eyes open, until she turned half aware to him and saw that it was in fact him who had her, before he pulled her from the car and into his arms. Her skin was ice against his cheek as he carried her around to the passenger's side, buckling the seatbelt and wrapping the blanket around her before climbing in beside her – pushing the vents so they were all aimed toward her as he drove through the blizzard back to her motel.

She sat silently beside him as he drove wondering why out of all her memories that was what she'd focused on; she'd captivated him, finding her animal hidden in a place of desire – she'd do anything for him. That's why he kept coming back to her, that's why he called her and used her, that's why he stayed; and somewhere along the way his fascination with figuring her out had turned into caring. He wouldn't have realized it, she figured he probably talked himself out of believing it because he didn't see himself as a person – she knew he saw himself as a predator, she thought of him that way too. What she'd never understood was what she was to him, or at least what he saw her as; a toy he could make dance whenever he pulled her strings, an idea of what he wanted, his mate.

He only really looked at her once the three hours it took him to drive back to Bemidji, he'd turned at the feeling of her looking up at him. She knew that look, that's why she'd remembered the day he asked about her father – he'd been prepared to kill her, letting go of any fondness he had to get the job done. Something was wrong, she'd felt it after Lester Nygaard had cried over how sorry he was; she knew his knowing about her would lead to trouble for her and she knew he was how Wrench and Numbers found her. But this, Lorne's dark eyes so heavily guarded leaving her unable to read them, this was what she'd been dreading. He thought himself above weakness, it's what he hated most in people – but he'd learned today he had allowed her to be his weakness, he realized how much of a mistake it'd been to keep her alive.

She knew him too well, knew him better than he'd let himself think she did – he was gonna leave her. With a heavy sigh she turned back to the window, pain a dull ache with every heartbeat. Any other day when he saw she knew what was coming and was unhappy with it he would've reached for her, would've reassured her with a soft touch; he did nothing more than turn back to the road because she was right, he'd realized the extent of a mistake she was.

* * *

**_So I finished episode six and I'm kind of in between that episode and episode 7 - so I'm sort of in episode 7, I guess; not really sure how to phrase that._**


	12. is the life I've been sold

"You should let me look at your hand," she said softly when he parked beside her car.

He looked at the dried blood on the hand he'd cut and knew she wasn't asking; and because he'd spent the last three hours preparing to deal with the weakness she'd soon show, he nodded and followed her in the room – he was giving her this one.

And she knew it. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed with her first aid kit and his hand in her lap knowing he'd leave soon – any other day he would've told her it was nothing, to not worry about it even though it needed stitches. The fact that he wasn't telling her that, that he so quickly agreed, told her everything she needed to know.

She'd barely finished taping the gauze around the stitches before he grabbed her chin and pulled her mouth to his, pushing aside her medical kit to lay her back on the bed. She should push him away tell him she didn't want this, not until he told her what would happen now – she should've at least tried to do something other than completely give in. But she didn't. Her hips rose letting him pull her pants down enough so that he only had to unbutton his own before taking her, leaving her clinging to him as her hands sought the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. Yet even then - his mouth on her neck and his teeth in her skin, her gasping at the bucking of his hips and her nails drawing blood down his back – she knew this was goodbye. His actions told her: how close he pulled her, how tightly he held her, his frequent groans, the fact that he didn't roll off her after he'd finished – everything he did was further proof of what she already knew was coming.

He continued lying over her knowing he'd have to go before the snow got deeper; but she was so warm and soft beneath him, and he could still smell the flowers from her shampoo in her hair. She knew what he'd say when he finally moved, he was aware she'd known the moment she woke – he'd realized then at the look in her eye that she knew him too well. He'd shown her too much, he'd stayed too long; he would never make a mistake as big as her. There were two options and he could tell from her short breaths she knew which one he'd chosen. "You can't leave me," he heard her breathe, and he sighed before pulling her pants back over her hips and standing.

She was almost completely limp as he stood her on her feet, staring at him with wide eyes full of betrayal, her lungs numb with panic as she tried to breathe, watching him collect the few clothes he'd brought with him. "Lorne."

"You need to be heading home in two days, say whatever you need to you can't be here then. That car I rented for you, I lied," he said turning to her, his face bare of all feeling as he stared down at her stark pain. "I took your license and forged your signature, it's registered to you; replace the piece of crap you use as a car back home."

He couldn't possibly be leaving, she didn't know how he was so calm; his eyes were so dark, his hands so tight on her arms as he stared callously down at her. She didn't believe him, she didn't believe his cruel lack of feeling at leaving her behind – it was a mask he was wearing to hide the fact that he wanted to stay, hiding it even from himself.

"Don't," he said the moment she opened her mouth to plead with him, a hand coming up to settle beneath her chin nearly wrapping around her throat. "The other option is to kill you: don't beg, don't cry," he added seeing the tears well in her eyes. "I will leave you here for the manager to find," he warned, forcing her head back as he stepped closer. This wasn't the woman he first met, he'd weakened her made her softer, she'd lost the bitterness and strong will that had captured his interest; the woman staring back at him was sad and broken, so incredibly weak that it made him furious. "If it's any consolation, you're better than this. I wouldn't have let you live this long if you weren't," he said before releasing her and moving to the door. "You should be gone in two days, it won't be me that kills you if you're not," he told her before stepping out of the warm room into the freezing air and closing the door behind him; not casting a second glance back at her.

As much as she wanted it she knew he wouldn't come back; this wouldn't be like the movies, he wouldn't change his mind and throw the door open before pulling her into his arms and promising he'd never leave – he wasn't that kind of man and she'd never really been that kind of woman, at least not until him. The moment she heard the car start and the sound of tires on the snow she'd crumpled to her knees weeping, deep broken sobs that left a stitch in her side until she couldn't breathe. And then she simply laid on the floor wondering what she was supposed to do now, wondering how she was supposed to just go home and act like she could be fine. Nothing would ever be fine, he was gone.

* * *

"It's not my position, professionally, to get involved in squabbles. Especially not of a private nature."

"How do you know it's private?" Lorne asked staring hard at his boss, seeing nothing more than a weary man who was realizing maybe life wasn't so bad – he didn't have the patience for what he may have done, he just wanted answers.

"If people are unhappy with our services, they call. The guy screws up arrangements are made; cash settlement, if that's not enough you break a leg or an arm. No calls, not about _you_. Not this time. So whatever it is, it's gotta be personal."

His head had turned in interest at something the man said. "What do you mean this time?"

"Well about," Rundle trailed off not knowing the exact number of years and gestured to the filing cabinet beside the desk, "may I?" he asked waiting until Malvo nodded before standing and grabbing the key to unlock it. This particular file he had taken out several times over the years, updating it when more could be added – he knew exactly where it was, he knew exactly what it said and he had enough photographs to have the person's face etched into his mind. He returned to the chair and opened the file, staring at the same woman as he did every so often when a new picture was added to the bunch; she was young, pretty, had potential to be great – he honestly didn't know why the other man had taken such an interest in her. "About four years ago you had a client who wanted to 'teach a man a lesson', I believe. Your job was to kill his daughter a," he said turning the page to look for her name, "Ms Olivia Anderson. Well, girl's still alive today I'm well aware of that. However, you did take care of it, even though you killed his guys; you brought him the dad to do whatever they wanted saying she was off limits. I received a phone call from the man saying he was displeased with the turn of events but it got the job done, I also advocated for you here," Rundle said making sure to stress to Malvo he'd helped him out, "and said something must've happened with the daughter and that you'd taken her under your protection – any and all attempts at her life would result in the other guy's death. I made it clear to him she was not to be looked at again."

"What's your point?" Lorne asked sharply, not liking that Liv's name was on file; not liking that a clear connection to him was so easily accessible.

"My point is, I didn't get a call about you this time; whatever it is, it's personal."

…

Lorne walked out of the real estate office with the file in hand; he didn't open it until he was on a flight to North Dakota. Her last name was the label, hers had been one of the first files in the cabinet, and his was written in the details – she'd been his job and he hadn't wanted her dead yet, he hadn't had her figured out, sometimes he still didn't. For four years Rundle had known exactly what she looked like, where she lived, where her mother lived, where she worked, and the people she knew. It would've been easy for someone to be sent for her, to figure out exactly who she was attached to.

He pulled out the many photographs collected realizing someone had been watching her – had been watching him. There were at least thirty photos of the two of them: in a restaurant, a car, her house, a motel, walking, a smile on her face a smirk on his, a hand on her cheek, his mouth on hers, fuzzy pictures taken through blinds of them in bed, of her reading a medical book with him listening to his tapes beside her, one of her reading a medical book with his head on her chest, a few of them sleeping with her pressed against him, one of them having sex. The last photograph was taken three months before they'd gone to Minnesota; someone's job was to watch him with her, and the corner of his mouth curled at finding a name and address at the end of the file. Once he was done in Fargo and with the deaf guy, he'd kill this man. And then he could forget about her.

* * *

Olivia had finally picked herself up off the floor, or rather the woman that ran the hotel had knocked on her door to see if she'd come back and found her lying a foot from the bed staring blankly at the nothingness in front of her. It was nearly nightfall when she got up, taking the note from the woman who said a man called for her – had demanded she come to the room to check on her – and then brushed aside the woman's concerns before shutting the door after her.

Lorne had called the hotel looking for her, he'd probably called hospital as well; he'd been worried about her whether or not he wanted to admit it. She would have died if the two men had killed him; whoever they worked for would've told them to kill her because she was useless. He'd come so close to losing her, and now he was running away.

After nearly pushing the woman out of her room she'd crawled in the bed wondering how he thought she was better than this; she didn't feel better than this, she felt weak and used and empty. That was it, he'd taken everything from her and filled her up with bits of him – now he was gone and there was nothing left of her.

It wasn't until the woman returned to her room the next morning saying the chief at the hospital called for her that she finally got herself ready and left; tried for some sort of semblance to what life had been. The test results on her little boy had come in, and just in time too because he was now in a coma – which Numbers had had her phone when that call came. She'd put on a cold facade and went to his room, seeing his mother crying over his bed yet Olivia didn't go to her; she just stood outside of the room seeing everything was going to hell and she was lucky enough to be caught in the middle.

"Cases like Frankie's are very rare and it progresses at such a rapid rate that when it's discovered it's usually too late, and unfortunately there is no known cure for it," she said standing beside the mother who looked up at her wrecked and broken.

"So you're saying he's gonna, you're saying my son is going to," she broke off crying as she turned to the little boy lying comatose in the bed.

Olivia swallowed the suffocating knot in her throat. "Sarah,"

"You have to say it," she pleaded desperately, hoping maybe if she didn't hear it then it wouldn't be true. "Please, Dr. Anderson, I need you to say it."

Olivia looked at her hopeless face and nodded as she blinked away the warmth behind her eyes. "Frankie is going to die," she said pausing at the woman's whimper. "At this stage he has no more than twenty-four hours." She stood not knowing what to do as the woman cried; she should put her arms around her, console her, but Olivia couldn't make herself move – Lorne had taken that part of her too. And so she stood at Frankie's bedside beside his weeping mother unmoving and nearly unresponsive as she watched his heart monitor, her eyes and ears following the blips of his little heart; until hours later in the dawn of the next day he went into respiratory failure, the amoeboid excavate having eaten through the breathing center of his brain. The first time in hours she moved was to turn off the coding monitors, there was no saving him; and then she stood as a mother grieved for her child, letting Sarah hold her hand as she wept.

It wasn't fair, this beautiful little boy who'd wrapped his arms around her legs when she first met him, had asked her to try his jello because he couldn't taste it and he didn't believe his mother when she said it was good because she was trying to make him feel better, who'd done his best not to cry for all the tests and the needles, who'd tried to make his mother smile even though he was the one dying; nothing about this was fair.

It was going on noon when she left the hospital, a small talk with the chief about how a spot for her was open for when she took her boards if she was interested, and she was due back at her own hospital the following week – he'd told her own chief she was taking it hard, barely talking at all, and it'd been her chief to suggest the rest of the week off because he knew she didn't normally get like this over her patients. The extra week didn't matter to her, she just wanted to crawl in a bed and never leave – she could convince herself she didn't want to see the sun anymore.

It was then, as she walked across the street back to her motel, that he spotted her blonde her hair by a twist of fate. She looked up at the sound of tires on snow and turned to see an unfamiliar car stop only a few feet from her; and for a second, just a short second, her mind betrayed her in thinking it might be Lorne. She stared at Mr. Wrench as he got out of the car, seeing his blue hospital gown and the blood stain on his side. He stepped toward her not even really knowing what he wanted from her, and she watched him lean against the car dazedly before he slid down it into the snow. She waited for him to do something, to get back up or to pull a gun out of nowhere and kill her, but he only sat pitifully in the snow. "Okay," she muttered rolling her eyes, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do with him.

* * *

**_So that was all of episode seven and half of episode eight; now I'm to the point of skipping a year, except I'm not actually going to be skipping it. I will probably do what life is like for her in the beginning, now that Wrench is there and Lorne is gone, and showing her possibly getting the pieces Lorne left her in back together - which will allow me to show what she'd been like before Lorne found her - and then I'll skip a few months add in some stuff and then get to where the show picks up. And I'm actually kind of excited to write her without Lorne for a little bit and develop her more as a character because I don't think I've fully gotten the chance to do that - even in my own writing he completely overshadows her. Also I will say this, there will be nothing romantic with her and Wrench, of any sort - tumblr actually ruined me on Wrench and Numbers. But I am quite excited to have him back because I rather liked him._**


	13. I've seen the battle & I've seen the war

_Raleigh: thank you so much for your review, it really meant a lot to me to get it. I'm so glad you like the story, and the way that I'm doing the characters. Thanks again._

* * *

Olivia moved to where Wrench sat in the snow still waiting for him to move; if he'd been in the hospital it meant he'd been arrested, and if he was now out and here it meant Lorne had let him go – she was now staring at a wanted criminal with a vendetta against the man who'd left her, and she could do little more than shake her head wearily wondering when it would all end. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "Are you gonna kill me?" she demanded, staring down at his sad face and seeing how lost he was.

He looked up at her surprised by how much hostility was in her eyes, this wasn't the woman he'd met two nights before – though he couldn't blame her, they had kidnapped her planning to take her back to their boss where they knew she'd be killed. But there was more than that, there was something missing – she was broken. He shook his head not knowing what he wanted from her; he hadn't really known what he wanted when he'd come back to find her, she was a doctor and she knew Malvo. If there was anyone who could help him without calling the cops it would be her, and if he got to hurt Malvo in the process then all the better.

She sighed before kneeling down to wrap an arm around him. "Come on, you tore your stitches," she told him when he looked up at her questioningly. He didn't have much of a choice but to let her help him, not if he didn't want to bleed to death, and she was already pulling him up taking any other choice he might've had. She helped him into the room, letting him lean his weight on her nearly making her knees give out – the top of her head barely made it past his shoulders, he was quite heavy. It took all her strength to keep him from falling when they reached the bed, and she helped him sit before going for the first aid kit she always had stocked and on her; pausing as she remembered stitching Lorne's hand. She didn't think she'd ever get away from him, every little thing no matter how insignificant would bring him to her mind – and she wondered if this pain would always rip through her so fresh and raw as the days turned to months and then to years.

He watched her closely as she turned her back on him, his eyes looking for any sign of a weapon she might have grabbed before she finally turned back to him with a box in hand – he'd caught her hesitation, the stillness that crept up her spine and settled on her face before she'd finally taken a breath and shaken herself out of it. He took the notebook and pen she offered him and let her help him lie back on his side, startling at the feel of her untying the hospital gown and uncovering him – if her eyes hadn't been so intently trained on the bullet wound he might've been more embarrassed.

She gently dabbed the blood around the wound seeing how bad it was; he'd completely ripped the sutures – she was surprised he hadn't bled out on his way here. "You came here for him," she said when he looked up at her, and sighed when he nodded. It's what she'd figured; Lorne had let him go, probably impressed at how close the two had gotten to him – and she realized then as she continued cleaning the blood off his side that Lorne knew Wrench would come for her, he'd warned her to be on her way home by today. Of course Wrench could always track her down, he knew her name, but he would've died first – except now, cause she was about to stitch him back up.

Her eyes were torn from his side at the feeling of the notebook being pushed against her arm. 'He killed my partner,' he'd written.

"The one with the hair?" she asked motioning the exaggerated coif Numbers had – and her shoulders slumped when he once more nodded. "I liked him," she said softly before removing the torn stitches, hearing him grunt before the notebook was once more offered to her.

'He liked you too.'

Her mouth curled into a smile for a brief moment before it fell, leaving her lips turned down in a frown. "Were you close?" she asked barely able to look at him; she'd liked them both, for the few minutes she'd met them – and she didn't think they really wanted to hurt her, unlike Lorne they didn't seem very dark. She grabbed the numbing cream from her kit and a swab before rubbing a layer on his skin and letting it sit for a minute.

He handed her the notebook again and watched as she read his question, wondering if she actually knew when Malvo would be back; he wouldn't be caught bare-assed and unable to move if Malvo was coming back soon.

But she shook her head and turned back to the reopened bullet wound knowing she had to wait another minute or two if she was going to stitch it back up without hurting him. "He's not," she started unable to finish the sentence or even look at the man laying beside her: she could've had the bullet wound, she could've been shot in the heart and it couldn't possibly hurt her worse. She took a breath making to speak before her shoulders slumped and she shook her head, she couldn't even say his name let alone admit he was gone. She looked down at the feel of the notebook against her arm to find him holding out the pen and the paper – seeing she couldn't speak.

He watched her stare at the page for several moments seeing she was struggling to even write it down; and he quickly realized Lorne Malvo wasn't coming back, and he knew their taking her was the reason. 'You got too close I think it scared him and now he's running away with his tail between his legs.' He looked up at her to see her restitching the wound, her chin quivering as she tried not to cry – she looked as broken as he felt, and he wondered if he'd ever have been able to hurt her whether or not it hurt Malvo.

She cut the end of the suture and put the needle back in the kit, making a note to herself to sanitize it when she had the time – like after she figured out what to do with the still injured man who needed to be looked after and probably had nowhere to go since his partner was dead – before placing a bandage over the wound. "Try not to tear the stitches this time, if you have to move go very slow," she told him not sure if there was any advice she could give him besides to lay down for a few days which he obviously couldn't do because she was literally about to drive back home.

Wrench watched her turn to the door startled and he sat up wishing he had a gun to arm himself with, knowing from the alarm on her face someone had knocked. "Give me a minute," he watched her say before she turned to him almost afraid. He let her help him up and waited as she looked for what to do with him; he wanted to go in the bathroom behind the curtain – at least then the moment it moved he could charge and get the upper hand on the person who was behind the door.

After hiding her fugitive, Olivia took the bloody rags and hid them at the bottom of the trashcan in the bathroom before going to the door. She honestly didn't know who was on the other side, she didn't think it was Lorne – he wouldn't knock, he'd kick the door in with a gun drawn and shoot anyone there that wasn't her. "Deputy Solverson," she said surprised when she opened the door find the officer on the other side.

Molly looked at the woman wondering if she really was what she seemed, her gut told her she wasn't – though her mind wanted her to believe it, she seemed so nice. "Dr. Anderson," she said in greeting. "Would you mind answering a few more questions I have?" she asked, smiling when Olivia nodded. "That's great, I heard you talking to someone," she said hobbling her way into the room trying not to pull on her stitches. "Is there anyone else here?" She stood inside of the front door with the little closet to her right waiting for an answer, and she looked to the doctor when she didn't say anything, now on guard that someone else was there.

"Are you okay?" Olivia asked looking at the deputy's side where she seemed to be injured.

Molly looked down realizing of course as a doctor she'd know and worry. "Oh, ya it's nothing – just part of the job," she said.

Before Molly could ask again if someone was there Olivia placed a hand around her back. "Come sit down," she said leading her to the bed, now not knowing what to do with woman who so obviously was trying to capture Lorne. "I was talking to my chief," she answered thinking it'd be best not to admit she had restitched a formerly arrested man and was now hiding him. "I was actually just about to head back home."

"Oh really?" Molly asked letting Dr. Anderson help her sit on the bed. "The little boy?" she asked wondering if he'd gotten better.

But Olivia shook her head. "He died this morning," she said softly before standing back and looking at the woman wondering why she was there.

Molly stared at her face wondering what had happened to her in the past two days to make her look so defeated. "I'm so sorry," she told her.

"Me too," Olivia said. "What were your questions?" she asked wanting the deputy to go so that she could pack Wrench in her car and go before anyone else decided to need her.

Molly nodded before taking out her notepad and looking at what all she knew about the woman she was speaking to – which was basically nothing, other than she seemed to be an incredibly nice woman who put the care of her patients ahead of her own convenience. But she couldn't get past that blonde hair that escaped from the car with the naked guy – there was something about this coincidence that didn't settle well with her. "I'm not here as a deputy," she told her. "My chief told me to let it go the case was closed cause we caught the guy, you know. But we got the wrong guy, I know we did; and I know Lorne Malvo is responsible for a lot of it. So I'm not here as a deputy, I'm here as a person who needs to know they're right. I can't use what you say, I can't even write it down, so you can tell me the truth." She looked up at Dr. Anderson hoping for some of the compassion she'd seen a couple of days ago, but she only stood staring blankly back at her. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom?" she asked, still not convinced this woman wasn't connected in any way – she knew Lester Nygaard, she was from out of town with blonde hair, she'd had Florence Nightgarden's phone – she wasn't convinced.

"Yeah," Olivia said with a shrug before helping her up.

"Thanks," Molly said grateful because she didn't think she'd have been able to get up without it. She looked at the doctor when she didn't let go of her arm. "Did you need something?" she asked now wondering if there was someone there and they were in the bathroom.

But Olivia stood staring at the deputy. "Did _you_ need something?"

Molly's brows furrowed before she understood. "Oh, no, uh, I'll give a yell if I need ya," she said realizing of course a doctor would know someone wounded might need help going to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and looked at the shower curtain hiding whatever was behind it, and she pulled her gun before creeping as silently as she could closer, reaching her hand out before giving a violent jerk and raising her gun. Her shoulders slumped at seeing it was empty, adding yet another thing the doctor hadn't done wrong to a very long list.

Olivia moved to the closet and opened it to look at the man. "I told you so," she mouthed angrily to him, glad she hadn't gone with his pointing to the shower – Lorne had taught her better than that, the shower is the first place you check; and a cop dead in her hotel room was the last thing she needed. She grabbed the few sweaters hanging up and returned to her suitcase, looking up when the bathroom door opened. "Just making sure I haven't left anything," she said before going in the bathroom to see if she'd gotten it all before returning to her suitcase.

Molly watched her zip it up wondering if she had a car, and she followed her out of the room and to a red SUV. "That's your car," she said realizing when Olivia said yes that no matter how much she wanted to believe this woman was connected to it all, something else happened to say she wasn't. "Did you drive out here in it?"

Olivia closed the trunk before turning to the deputy seeing how hopeless she looked. "No," she answered not knowing why she'd told her that.

It was a moment before Molly understood what she'd just said and she looked at Dr. Anderson with wide eyes. "What car did you come here in?"

She hesitated a moment wondering if she really should, if the deputy really was here on a personal matter; and then she wondered if she actually cared. "A white New Yorker."

Molly stared at Olivia for several moments wondering if she was actually saying what she was hearing. "Was there a naked fella in the trunk?" she asked though the doctor gave her nothing – no yes or no, no shake of her head – she stood in the snow in only a sweater waiting for what came next. "You know Lorne Malvo?"

Olivia looked around wondering if he was there to see if Wrench had found her, wondering if he allowed himself to care about her enough to actually come back to see she wasn't hurt – but she honestly didn't know anymore. "I have nothing for you," she told the deputy. "I know him, if you tell me what happened I can give you a guess as to what I think he did and I'm always right – but I have no proof, I never saw that side of him."

Molly nodded not sure if she fully understood before motioning her to her own car. "Can you take a look at this, point out anything that could be wrong?" she asked opening the trunk to show her the board she'd made showing her theory – coming here had been a last desperate attempt at finding the truth, at knowing she wasn't wrong.

She stared at the pictures of Lorne and Lester and Numbers and Wrench, at all the connections the deputy had made. "You said your chief told you the case was closed?" she asked unable to believe it. "Is he an idiot?" she asked hearing the deputy laugh surprised. "This is unbelievable," she said making Molly's mouth twitch as though to smile glad at knowing she'd gotten it all. "I mean it's not all right, but you're very close."

Molly looked from Dr. Anderson's serious face to the board. "What do you think of it?"

"Sam Hess?" she asked pointing to the picture and then tracing it to Lorne and Lester. "Is he the one that broke Mr. Nygaard's nose?"

Molly looked up from the board and nodded. "Yeah, I think Lester hired Malvo or made some kind of arrangement," she said before trailing off at Olivia shaking her head.

She looked up at Molly. "I'm not saying Lester Nygaard is innocent, what happened here," she said point to Pearl Nygaard and the officer, "I think Lester killed his wife and called," she opened her mouth to say his name, she tried so hard to force it from her tongue, "him," she said pointing to Lorne's photograph. "And then he killed the officer before leaving and getting a hotel room," she finished shocking Molly with her knowing that – which meant Malvo had probably come to Dr. Anderson's room that very night before he had, and that he'd stayed here for a day or two before leaving. "So Lester killed his wife, but at this time," Olivia said pointing back to Sam Hess, "while I don't think Lester would've minded the idea of him being dead, I don't think he wanted it. And now," she raised a shoulder and sighed, "he's ruined."

Molly nodded having so many more questions. "Would you tell me about Lorne Malvo?" she asked not surprised when the doctor shook her head. "These two guys, do you know anything about them?" she asked pointing to the deaf fella and his translator.

She looked at the picture of Wrench, remembering that night at the hospital – he'd almost looked like it hurt when Numbers had stabbed the syringe in her neck, and then he got out of the hospital and of all the places he could've gone to escape he'd come here. "The first time I met them was at the hospital after I spoke to you," she answered, watching the deputy's brows raise in surprise. "They kidnapped me right after actually," she mumbled before her eyes found their way back to the picture of Lorne – she still had that ugly sweater he'd worn as the minister, she'd almost put it on before going to work the day before.

"You're saying these two men kidnapped you?" Molly asked staring shocked at the doctor.

Olivia nodded. "They sedated me, I woke up the next day and he was driving me back here. And then he," her voice left her and she turned away from the board not able to look at his face.

"He left you," Molly finished for her, seeing this was why she was so broken – and somehow, on top of everything, she found that she wanted to comfort the woman. "Dr. Anderson," she said not sure what she could say now, the woman knew of Malvo's crimes and had done nothing – she was an accessory.

Olivia turned to her looking so bitter and lost. "What does it say about me that I fell in love with a murderer?" she asked rhetorically, her voice sardonic and masochistic. "And I liked the guys that kidnapped me, and even now I still don't think they wanted to hurt me. I mean, what kind of person does that make me?"

Molly stared at the clearly distressed woman not knowing what to say. "I don't think you're a bad person," she told her gently, and she honestly didn't – she just loved a terrible man.

She laughed almost hysterical as she turned to the deputy. "In a few months I'm gonna take my boards and be an attending. I have a freaking M.D. and a PhD, and I am standing here with a cop crying over the murderer I'm in love with. He, he fucks with people cause it's fun and then he kills them; and then he comes home and I love him. An-and now look at me, I don't even know who I am anymore."

Molly watched the woman wilt to the ground in tears not sure what to do, she didn't know if she should comfort her – she was an accessory to numerous crimes – but she was a very nice woman, Molly thought she'd at least got that right about her; and she didn't even act like she wanted to love Malvo, she acted like she almost hated it. And so after several attempts to put her hand on the weeping woman's shoulder, lamely reaching for her only to pull away and then to reach for her again and then to pull away, she finally patted her shoulder gently.

Wrench stood still half in the closest watching the two out of the open door, having almost expected the doctor to give him away – he did kidnap her with the intention of taking her to people that would kill her, or at least kill the man she was with. But instead he watched her cry, and then as the deputy awkwardly forced herself to comfort her. He watched her stand and wipe beneath her eyes, pulling what was left of her together before telling the deputy something else.

"Don't give up," Olivia told her wondering if they'd met under different circumstances she might've liked her. "You have it all figured out, you just have to wait for him to slip up."

She stood shivering in the cold watching Molly Solverson drive away in her police car, now knowing for certain she was right but having nothing to do with it; and then Olivia went back in the room to collect her wounded fugitive. "Come on, lets get in the car," she told him before grabbing her coat and leaving the room. She turned back at his hand on her arm and watched as he shook his head furiously, his hands speaking a language she didn't understand nor did she have the will to wait for him to write it down. "Look, you should be in a hospital with people to monitor you. Do you have anyone to take care of you?" she asked him rudely, wanting to just grab him and force him into the car. But he looked down and shook his head making her sigh at realizing he was on his own – like her. "Do you have a place to go?" she asked with a hand under his chin, waiting as he shook his head once more. "Then get in the car," she told him before leaving him in the room and climbing in.

It was several moments of hesitating, wondering if she really was gonna help him, before he finally limped his way to the passenger's side and climbing in. The moment he was sitting with his seatbelt buckled she jammed a syringe in his arm, pulling his hand away when he reached for her before he finally slumped limp against the window knocked out cold. She looked at him unhappily before turning up the heat and pulling out of the motel lot and heading home.

…

It was dark when his eyes fluttered opened, looking at the clock to see it was after three in the morning; his first instinct was to lash out enraged that she'd sedated him, not knowing what she'd done to him while he was out. But he barely even lifted a hand when he realized his seat was leaned back and he was covered in a warm blanket; and all anger left him when he turned to her. She sat staring out of the windshield with tears streaming down her face, but she did no more than blink – he didn't even known if she was aware she was crying. And if there was ever a moment when he decided he wouldn't hurt her, it would be then, sitting beside her warmed by her blanket as she drove him to her home.


	14. And this life out here

It was well after noon the next day when Olivia pulled the SUV into her driveway, having only stopped at fast food joints, getting water and forcing Wrench to drink - even then he was pale and shaky, quickly dehydrating. He needed an IV of fluids, which she of course didn't have lying around her house. And so she gave up the thought of stopping to sleep, not willing to take even a few hours when it was a very real possibility she might have to deal with a dead fugitive when she woke. So she drove as long as it took for him to drink all of the water, and then she got him more, and she continued on until she finally pulled into her neighborhood. "Wait here," she told him before jumping out and unlocking her door, looking around to make sure none of her neighbors had noticed her return before going back to collect him.

He was barely conscious as she dragged him inside, doing her best to keep him on his feet cause she was too small and weak to carry him inside. He barely even noticed the softness of a bed beneath him when she laid him down in the guest room, and he only turned his head away in displeasure at the feel of another syringe in his arm before he drifted along back into a sea of dark dreams.

"Goddammit," she muttered before covering him up and rushing back to the car. She was lucky she didn't get herself pulled over as she drove to the hospital, running red lights, swerving in and out of lanes - Lorne would've dumped his phone by then so she'd be stuck with a dead body if she didn't manage to steal the IVs Wrench needed. And she stood beside the car in the parking lot thinking of why she would be in the hospital when she still had six days of paid vacation.

"Olivia," her chief said when he saw her, turning from the hall he was about to go down to walk to where she was.

She gave him a strained smile. "Hey chief, I was dropping these off," she said holding out the books under her arm for him to see. "Guess I was looking for something to do that didn't involve sitting at home."

He nodded understanding, seeing in her eyes she was still upset. "If you feel up to it I can let you back a few days early, but I'd like you to take a couple more days off," he told her kindly.

"Thanks, it might do me a bit of a good to get a vacation; I'm probably just over tired," she said wishing she wasn't lying to him - she rather liked him, he was a good man. "Well, I'm gonna run these up to the library, maybe find another one before heading back home. Thank you, for everything sir," she told him before walking away. She dropped the books off before heading up a floor, peering down a long empty hall before heading to one of their supply rooms. She looked over her shoulder before grabbing three IVs, not knowing how many he would need without his vitals - he'd lost a lot of blood and hadn't been in the hospital for two days, she only hoped he wouldn't need more because she couldn't risk taking anymore than what she stuffed in her coat. Fate had apparently decided to give her this one because she was soon sitting in her car driving back home with no one the wiser on what she'd done.

Through the night and into the next day he remained half conscious or fully asleep, and half the time she kept him sedated to keep his heart rate low - reducing his fluid intake to nearly half of what he should've been receiving because she couldn't give him everything in three hours and then leave him to get better. Which left her forcing water down his throat whether he wanted to drink or not; and once, only once, he'd woken enough to shove her hard into the wall beside the bed - she'd looked at where he lay with her head ringing from how hard it'd struck to the wall, to see him signing something frantically. It was an apology, he'd been dreaming of Malvo and mistook her for him - but the moment she cried out he turned to her shocked to find her on her knees staring at him almost afraid. But she brushed his hands aside, seeing in his eyes he hadn't meant to hurt her, before grabbing the last sedative she had and administering it to him - she couldn't have him worked up and tearing his stitches, she just needed him to get better.

He woke early in the morning before the sun even considered rising, feeling better than he had in Minnesota - save the ache in his side. It took him a moment of staring around him before he remembered what had happened after he got in the car – it was blurry and fumbled together but he remembered her forcing him to drink, helping him into the house, the sting of a needle in his arm, a cool cloth on his face. She sat half curled in a chair beside the bed, her legs under her and the rest of her body laying on the bed by his legs – he didn't think it could possibly be comfortable, but she was fast asleep.

He reached for her, clenching his teeth at the movement, his fingers just barely brushing against her hair but it was enough. She sat up startled and barely awake, her mind still lost in a dream, and she smoothed back her hair blinking slowly as her bleary eyes looked up at him. It took a full minute of staring confused at Wrench's face before she realized why he didn't look like Lorne – she'd been dreaming of the time he'd come back half dead, it'd taken her four days to get him back to health. It'd scared the shit out of her to see how much blood he'd lost, at the length she'd gone to keep him alive; she'd stolen a bag of blood and several IVs, and even then she hadn't thought he'd make it – that's when they both realized she loved him.

"Hey," she said softly before rubbing her eyes and going to the living room; he waited for her to come back, not sure what she was gonna do, before she came back and sat beside him on the bed with a notebook and a pen. "How are you feeling?" she asked him, wishing she had his vitals and his heart rate and blood pressure – all the things she needed in order to know how to help him. All she had to go on was his word, or at least his writing.

'Better,' he wrote showing her the page before looking at her to see what she'd say.

She reached a hand up to his forehead. "You don't have a fever anymore, which is good. We might actually be in the clear," she said softly, her hand straying from his forehead down his cheek. She still couldn't comprehend that Lorne had left her, that she wouldn't get to touch him like this again, that he wouldn't touch her again. And she couldn't imagine anyone else's hands on her; she couldn't even go in her room to unpack because she could still smell him – could still remember the many nights she'd woken to him showing up out of the blue after weeks and wrapping himself around her, breathing in the smell of her hair, holding her. She hadn't even been able to step through the doorway, she stood in the hall with her chest heaving before she'd rushed to the guest room to find Wrench still sleeping – and she wondered if this would ever get better, if these wounds would ever heal.

Wrench sat completely stilled at the feel of her fingertips tracing his face, at the complete lack of all feeling in her morose eyes – if her broken heart wasn't so visible he might've been able to get up and leave, to at least have considered leaving her as an option. But he didn't, at least not then, instead he sat and waited until she sighed and pulled away from him. "Here," she said handing him a remote. "I'll make you some oatmeal it's easy on the stomach and you're probably starving. This button will pull up the captions if you wanna watch anything."

She left him to fiddle with the tv she'd had put in for her mother, who stopped by occasionally when she was having a blue spell – sometimes Olivia thought she'd been born to take care of her mother, give her someone to hold on to someone to love her. Taking care of another person was second nature to her, it's why being a doctor had really been the only choice for her – besides of course she was a surgical junky, there was no other high than saving a person's life. And in the way the earth balanced things; there was no other low than watching them die knowing you weren't good enough to save them.

She sighed before rifling through the pantry for her box of oatmeal, not finding herself even remotely hungry – she hadn't eaten since he'd left. It was cliché, a pitiful display and she loathed every second she cried; but she couldn't stop crying, she couldn't make herself eat, she didn't even want to be awake. She was almost afraid of when Wrench was better, her mind no longer occupied with thoughts of his health. And even more she was afraid when he'd leave, she didn't know what she'd do without anyone at all who understood what was wrong – who understood the devastation that wrecked her completely, all in the name of Lorne Malvo.

Wrench sat in the bed reading the news for several minutes when he smelled something burning, and he grit his teeth as he pulled himself out of the bed to creep down the hall and into the main room – wary of something being wrong, of Malvo having come back to see she was alright and her completely forgetting about the oatmeal. But the sight he was met with was of her on her knees in front of the oven with her shoulders shaking, he didn't need the ability to hear her to know her terrible gut-wrenching sobs echoed beneath the sound of the smoke detector's shrill screams.

She recoiled at his hand on her shoulder, hearing then the smoke detector and smelling the oatmeal burning not knowing how she'd ignored either one. "I'm good," she said brushing his hand aside.

He hadn't seen her mouth to know she'd said anything, but her body language spoke volumes and he took a step back as she forced herself on her feet and dragged a hand beneath her eyes. "Go sit down," she told him, this time turning to him as she dumped the pot in the sink. "I'll make another batch."

He did as he was told, nearly falling onto the sofa in relief at being off his feet but he continuously kept looking back to the kitchen to see her – to see she was still on her feet, to see she hadn't fallen apart again. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, that he knew she couldn't answer – that weren't fair to even suggest asking because she was so broken – but he itched with the need to know why she mourned him. He knew she'd loved him, he could see that very clearly in every breath she took, what he didn't know was why or for how long; if he had to guess he'd say it'd been years, which mean Malvo had fallen for whether he admitted it or not – why else would he have continuously come back, and why else would he have left.

He took the bowl she offered him and looked after her as she walked back to the room she'd put him in, taking a large bite of the oatmeal and realizing he hadn't eaten in two days. She came back with the pad of paper and he waited for what she'd say.

"I'm gonna go to the store and get you some clothes, write down your shirt size, pants, underwear, socks, shoes, and anything else," she told him handing him the notebook and pen.

'I have money in an account, I can wire it to yours to pay for it,' he wrote not knowing how much money she had, only that he didn't want her going out of her way for him. But she shook her head shrugging off his concern, and he could tell from the way she opened her mouth to speak without actually being able to release the words that it was something to do with Malvo. So he handed her the notebook relieving her of the need to verbalize what she couldn't say.

'He transferred money to my account yesterday, I'm set for life,' she wrote, and even in her writing her words portrayed her bitterness. Finding how much he'd given her had solidified the fact that he wasn't coming back, he was satisfying himself in knowing that she would be fine financially without ever having to think about her again. That's what hurt the most, that she knew he was wiping his hands clean of her. "Don't tear your stitches again," she told him when he handed her the list of what she needed. "Don't even move, pee on yourself for all I care just don't tear your damn stitches." She went back to the kitchen and grabbed the pot before setting it on the coffee table so he could get more, knowing he was starving.

He gladly helped himself to more before taking the remote she'd set beside him and turning on the television, searching through the menu for the captions before settling back and eating. It was a few minutes, several minutes in fact, before he realized he could still feel her behind him and he turned to see her over his shoulder fiddling with her fingers unhappily. Tapping her hand with his own he got her attention and waited as she tried to speak.

She stood opening her mouth planning to just force the question to leave her, knowing it sounded pathetic and hating herself for how weak she felt. But she couldn't make her feet unglue themselves from the floor without knowing. And so after going to speak a number of times without actually saying anything she finally sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Are you gonna be here when I get back?"

He stared up at her realizing then just how broken she was, watching her eyes looking everywhere but at him as she waited for him to write something – to assure her she wouldn't come back to empty home. It was then he saw she was afraid of being alone, that she'd taken in the man who'd kidnapped her and planned to take her back to his boss who'd tell him to kill her, all for the sake of having another beating heart near enough that she could keep breathing. What did it matter he was murderer, that he'd known he'd have to kill her – she was in love with a murderer who she knew very well had honestly considered killing her before deciding to just leave her; it was something she was so used to, something she'd convinced herself was normal, it was just another ordinary day.

She'd saved his life, had committed a felony for him – for the selfish reason of not being alone. How could he possibly ever consider leaving her. He reached for the notepad and scrawled his answer before holding it up, showing her his promise that he wouldn't leave.

* * *

**_So next chapter will be little snippets of her time with Wrench, just further solidifying that they become very close before I reach the end of the year and bring her back into the show. And I know she's quite broken and a bit mopey, which will continue a bit into next chapter - but she will gradually stand on her own feet again and be the woman she was before Lorne Malvo train wrecked into her life; and then I might throw him at her again. Also, Wrench will probably be a completely different person than he was in the show because he's having to find himself as well. I hope everyone's still enjoying the story, thank you all for reading._**


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